


Take Care Down By The Water

by shyserious



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Boys In Love, British Slang, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Confusion, Drowning Related Themes, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Folklore, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Kissing, Love, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform, NO DEATH, Nature, Near Death Experiences, Nudity, Original Character(s), Original Mythology, Scotland, Smut, Summer, Summer Love, Summer Vacation, The Other Boys Not Mentioned - Freeform, Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 22:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyserious/pseuds/shyserious
Summary: Louis has spent his summers at his Granny's in the Isle of Barra for almost as long as he could remember.This summer wasn't supposed to be any different, but the little Scottish island turned out to be harbouring more than just the gorgeous white beaches, the clear waters, and the town drunk scaremongering the foreign tourists.





	Take Care Down By The Water

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Here's finally what I've been working on these past months. :')
> 
> I'm not sure what to say about it other than that I hope you enjoy the story! This is still being worked on (so it can be the best it can be) but hopefully it's an enjoyable read!
> 
> Tell me what you think, all constructive criticism is more than welcome, and I hope you'll have a good time reading. xxx
> 
>  _Folklore, myths and legends mentioned:_  
>  **Wulver:**  A werewolf in Shetland, that is said to have had the body of a man with a wolf’s head. It was reported to have left fish on the windowsills of poor families.  
>  **Bean-Nighe:** Scottish Gaelic for ‘washer woman’, is a Scottish fairy seen as an omen of death. It is said she could be found by streams and pools washing the clothes of those who are about to die.  
>  **Selkie:**  Selkies were mythical creatures that could transform themselves from seal to human form and back again. The legend of the selkie apparently originated on the Orkney and Shetland Islands where selch or selk(ie) is the Scots word for seal.   
>  **Kelpie:** or water kelpie, is the Scots name given to a shape-shifting water spirit inhabiting the lochs and pools of Scotland.  
>  **Capall Uisce:** (COP-ple ISH-ka) a Celtic water horse.
> 
>  _Words:_  
>  **Seanamhair** = Grandmother (pronounced shenavar), Scottish gaelic  
>  **Diathan**  = Gods/gods/Gosh, Scottish gaelic  
>  **Wee** = tiny, small, in Scottish dialect ;’)   
>  **Vest** = sleeveless shirt/top (in the uk)   
> Note: I have never visited the island described in this story so don't believe a word I say! (I've only seen -gorgeous- pictures.) Also, I have played, twisted, added, and removed things and ideas from multiple different folklores/myths and from different sources, so this story is not completely reliable nor factual about myths or folklore. I wanted to have my own twist and create my own "lore."  
> I have included the myth/folklore that inspired this story at the end notes. This story is only influenced by it, but don't read it until after if you want to stay free of any hints/spoilers. 
> 
> Please read the tags! :) (Such as the one mentioning that the rest of the boys are not in this story.)
> 
> -This is still being beta'd and worked on. / English is not my first language. / Please do not repost, translate, or add on sites like goodreads (especially without permission)! / Disclaimer: None of this is real nor does this reflect anything or anyone in real life.-

The train was hot and stuffy, and it felt too cramped even with the empty seats that were scattered throughout the cars. The air inside was heavy and uncomfortable against Louis’ skin; his vest had started to stick to his sweating back even before the train had left London.

The windows weren’t the type that you could open—the train was too modern for that—but Louis had still checked a couple of times. Just to be sure. The air conditioning was shit. Shit as in it was nonexistent, and now Louis was probably dying of heatstroke and dehydration because of it.

He should have bought another bottle of water—or five—before getting on the train, but that was neither here nor there now. The restaurant car had run out of all their bottles before the journey had even hit the halfway mark. Louis knew because there had been a red faced woman with a screeching child in front of him in the line. She had loudly announced how she would definitely be lodging a complaint about the heat and the lack of water—she already had the last two bottles, but clearly wanted more—and how the train was taking too long. The kid had been snivelling and stretching a sticky hand towards the candy shelf that was quietly shifting with the rhythm of the train, and wailed on. As you do.

Louis had sighed, the sound disappearing behind the woman’s useless nagging, and grabbed a juice box from the cooler. He used the term ‘cooler’ loosely- it was a miracle the juice hadn’t evaporated already.         

Now, sitting back in his seat, Louis regretted buying the juice. It was making his mouth feel sticky and he felt thirstier than before. He had even managed to hold off from drinking it until he heard that they would be arriving in fifteen minutes. With an annoyed eye roll he sucked the last drops noisily through the thin straw.

Glasgow was just as stuffy and hot as London had been, but at least there was some sort of breeze in the air. Everyone had been so excited for the heatwave when it had first appeared on the weather forecast. A proper, actual summer in the UK? Who would have thought! Well, Louis thought the summer could fuck right off.

His fringe was damper than it was after a shower, and the metal clasps on the strap of his sports bag were burning his skin. His Vans’ felt gross on his feet but he had promised himself he wouldn’t take them off. The airport staff probably wouldn’t be too happy with him if he showed up without them.   

Half of him wanted to keel over in the lobby of the airport as soon as he walked through the main doors.

The cold, refreshing air breezed over him from the air-conditioning, and it felt like it was singing straight to his heart. He was eyeing the floor and contemplating if it would be worth it to just sprawl all over the coolness of it, when the second wave of the air-conditioning hit him.

Louis cursed under his breath, goosebumps skittering all over his arms. He had never felt more disgusting than right then: digging out his black hoodie from the bag and pulling it on top of the sweaty—and now also cold as fuck—vest.

Louis pulled a face, _gross gross gross_ , and headed towards the check-in desks, shuddering from cold as he went. Typical.

*

Barra looked just like it always did, even from the air. 

The _Isle of Barra_ , as the pilot of the tiny aircraft was announcing it, had been just Barra to Louis for so long he couldn’t even remember it being something else. Actually, it wasn’t even Barra. Most of the time it was just “ _Granny’s_ ”.

Every summer, like clockwork, he would get out of school at the end of the last day of the semester and hop on the train. Well, except on that one curious, glorious, occasion when his family had somehow had enough money for a plane ticket from Doncaster to Glasgow, allowing him to travel feeling like he was the poshest of royalty. But usually it was the train. 

He would travel up North, all the way up to Glasgow, and from there he would fly to Granny’s. She had always paid for the plane. There were ferries to the island too but Granny insisted it would only be a hassle for Louis to run around the Highlands instead of just flying to Barra. So that’s what he did. Every summer ever since his little sisters had been born. 

He honestly didn’t mind, welcomed it even. There had never been much going on in Donny for him, a few friends here and there, but they would just pick up where they had left off whenever he came back for school in September. 

Louis was aware that he had never been the easiest child to handle: always a bit too reckless and a bit too loud. Always plotting something that was just this side of idiotic. But. He was also utterly and completely a Granny’s boy. And always would be.

Which is why it had never bothered him to be hauled across the whole of England and to the tiniest corner of Scotland. That way he wasn’t in the way, or causing chaos in his horde of sisters. Or sneaking out in the middle of the night, and _still_ ending up being in the way and causing chaos in his horde of sisters. Instead he got to run around the beaches with Granny, investigate the ruins and the fields and the cliffs, and it was just his Granny and him, all summer long. It was perfect. 

When Louis had gotten old enough to actually look after his sisters he had still traveled to Barra. It hadn’t even occurred to anyone that he wouldn’t go-- it was his summer. His and Granny’s.

And now Louis had just finished his master’s in London, and of course he was going back. He always did. And also, no matter how much Louis hated to admit it, Granny was getting older.           

It was _their_ summer and it had been almost a year. It felt like far longer.

The way the small propeller plane landed on the beach—literally, the runway was on a beach, and the beach _was_ the runway—was comfortingly familiar. It was shaky and jumpy, and Louis had his face plastered to the window through it all.   

He had seen Granny’s car from the air already, a trusty, blue old thing, but he always tried to get a glimpse of her as soon as they landed. He never did, though. Granny always waited inside the tiny airport, holding a sign with a cursive “ _Lou-Lad_ ” decorating it, and a massive grin decorating her wrinkled face.

Louis thanked the pilot and the crew on his way out. They were all new: the pilot way younger than Alpin, who had been the local captain for half of Louis’ life. 

Everything was familiar and quick from then on. There were only a few other passengers and the airport could just barely be called an airport, that’s how tiny it was. There was barely space for toilets and a desk. Louis loved it. 

“Louis!” Granny called the second Louis stepped inside the building, her voice so familiar and full of warm delight.

She waved the sign in her hands as Louis handed his passport to security. He grinned back at Granny, kind of standing on his toes to see past the security signs, and waved at her. 

“Back for the summer again, eh, Louis?” Ms. Morrison, the lady holding Louis’ passport, smiled, accent thick and heavily gaelic. She was someone Louis had known ever since the first time he had stayed the whole summer in Barra. He had been playing footy and kicked the ball through her living room window. Of course, being the little shit he was, he had blamed it on Mungo. Which reminded him… 

“As always!” Louis answered, taking back the checked passport, “Is Mungo about yet? Baz hadn’t heard from him, and I don’t have his new cell number.” 

“Oh, he’s not coming until next month, this time,” Ms. Morrison said, pulling an exaggerated sad face. “We better enjoy the quiet before that happens.” 

Louis snorted. Ms. Morrison looked at him knowingly and added, “As if this island will get any peace now that you are here.”

“You’d be heartbroken if I wasn’t,” Louis quipped back with a sure grin, pushing the plane ticket inside his passport and then pocketing both. 

Ms. Morrison huffed, shaking her head. “Yes, yes! Now sod off you!” she said, laugh clear in her voice. “Your Granny’s been here the whole morning, she’ll take someone’s eye out with that sign of her’s if you don’t get to her soon.” 

Louis flashed the woman his biggest grin and leaned over the desk to peck her on the cheek. Ms. Morrison shooed him on—but only after kissing him back—and then patted his shoulder as he went. She would stop by for dinner or tea sometime later in the week.             

“Granny!” Louis hollered, almost skipping the few steps between them. 

Granny answered by whacking him in the chest with the sign. And then crushing it between them when she hugged Louis. This was probably why she had a new sign every year. 

“It’s not polite to yell, you know it, Louis,” she grumbled in his ear, swaying them side to side and squeezing harder.

Louis laughed, lifting Granny from the ground for a few seconds just to hear her yelp. He had done it ever since he realised he could. Louis reckoned it was the same summer that he had flown to Glasgow instead of having to take the train. He had been proper drunk on the power of feeling posh. The first thing to demonstrate that power? Picking up his Granny. 

He had also gotten a smack on the back of his head for that. 

“Lou!” Granny huffed, smacking him on the back of his head the second her feet were back on the ground. She wasn’t even trying to hold back her smile.   

Louis was so happy to be back.

*    

“Bazzy,” Louis whined. “Why is it so hot here? It’s never hot here.” 

“Global warming,” Baz mumbled, tapping on his phone without lifting his gaze from the screen.

Louis groaned loudly and rolled dramatically back on his back, sending sand flying while he was at it. A massive seagull that had been hanging out near them startled and waddled away with its wings flapping. 

Louis quickly peeked up at Baz to check if he had noticed. From any of the pacts they had done over the years the pact not to scare the seagulls was probably the most sacred. Those motherfuckers packed some serious crap bombs and no kid wanted to re-experience washing all that off their hair. Lesson learned. 

Baz wasn’t paying attention. Not to the bird and not to Louis (unacceptable). 

He was wearing these awfully tight jeans that were rolled at the ankles, and made him look even lankier than he already was. Baz was one of the tallest people Louis knew (the knob wouldn’t let him ever forget that) and he had red tones in his cropped light brown hair. This year he had clearly been letting his beard grow out, and Louis hadn’t stopped giving him shit about it since they met up.  

Louis flicked a pebble at him, watching it disappear in the folds of his white vest. Baz looked like such an arsehole. Sometimes acted like one too, to be honest. But he was an alright lad, most of the time. When he wasn’t ignoring Louis. 

Louis dug his fingers in the sand and threw another pebble. This one bounced of off Baz’s chest. 

“Sod off,” Baz sighed, kicking Louis in the shin. Neither of them were wearing shoes but Louis twisted away from his reach just in case. His shins were fragile. 

“Stop ignoring me,” Louis complained, sitting up and shaking sand from his hands. The little grains were sticking to his skin, the humid and hot air causing everything to feel damp and sweaty. Even the wind was warm. “You practically lived with Heather for months, you can spare a few hours entertaining me.” 

Heather was Baz’s newest girlfriend, which wasn't at all surprising. Somehow he always managed to come back to Barra with a new name on his phone every summer. And then leave with it deleted by the fall. This time around, however, he seemed to actually be invested in this girl. They hadn’t stopped texting the whole week. 

Good for Baz, Louis reckoned. The guy really was the relationship type—no matter how much he refused to admit that—and maybe he finally had found the right girl that would stick around.   

“I’d pick Hetty over you any day,” Baz smirked, all cocky and annoying, and mouth spreading so wide that even his chipped corner tooth peeked out. What an arse. 

“You’re such an arse,” Louis huffed, pushing his hair back from where it was trying to stick to his temples. There was enough force in the wind for the sea to spray up and over the dark rocks and the sand. Louis contemplated moving closer and letting the water cool him down. 

“Whatever, bro,” Baz said, brushing the pebbles and sand Louis had thrown at him off his lap. He did pocket the phone, though. “Want to bike to the pub this evening, after I finish up at the Inn? Someone’s supposed to play jazz for the tourists.”             

Louis shrugged in agreement, looking up to the sky to follow the clumsy liftoff of the seagull.

*

When Louis curved on his bike to the front of the pub it was with way too much speed. He didn’t even bother slowing down, instead he just jumped off and let the bike zoom straight into a nearby bush. 

Baz’s familiar mountain bike was already tucked away by the wall, his old ratty back bag hanging from the handlebar. There was loud music playing inside, and Louis wasted no time jumping up the low stairs and through the propped-open door. 

“Tommo!” Baz called out from his left, voice so clearly relieved that it caused Louis’ brows to climb up. 

He ran his gaze across the pub, recognising some familiar faces here and there, before locating Baz in a booth in the corner. The tall boy was visibly annoyed, maybe a little bit uncomfortable too, and next to him sat the local drunk, Finlay. 

Louis snorted. Baz’s sour face made a lot more sense now. 

“Finnie, my man,” Louis said loudly as he approached them, spooking the mumbling, red faced older gentleman. “How’s it going?” 

Finlay squinted his brown eyes, clearly not able to focus anywhere properly. Baz downed his almost finished pint and was quick to collect his keys and phone from the sticky looking table.   

“As it goes!” Finlay announced wetly, lifting Baz’s empty glass. “As it goes.” 

“Good to know,” Louis chuckled, shaking his head, and stepped to the side to let Baz out of the booth. “I would love to stay for a chat, and all, but I think Baz has places to be—” Louis saw Baz nodding his head in agreement, already escaping towards the door. —“but we’ll catch you later, yeah?”   

The only reply Louis got was some more incoherent muttering. 

Louis stopped by the bar before trailing after Baz. He ordered two bottles of beer at random from the freezer, along with a water for Finlay. 

“We’ll keep an eye on the old bugger,” Davy, the pub-keeper winked, handing Louis his change. Louis saluted with a smile, the cold bottles clinking together in his hold.    

“Fucking hell,” Baz grumbled when Louis stepped outside. He was already standing at the mouth of the little trail that lead to a nearby meadow. “If I didn’t feel so bad for him I’d have throttled him years ago.”     

“Oi, careful,” Louis grinned as he caught up to him. “That’s my buddy-pal Finnie you’re disrespecting there.” 

Baz glared at him but dropped the look when Louis handed him the beer. 

They made their way quietly down the trail, stepping over the familiar roots and rocks. They didn’t have to walk very far to find a good spot: slightly hidden from the pub’s view, with the gently sloping hill hiding them from the road. There was a slight breeze in the air, making it just a little cooler as the sun started to droop. 

Wild flowers were scattered all around, quietly wavering in the air as Louis and Baz sprawled down on the long grass. It didn’t take long for Baz to light up a fag. 

“Seriously though,” Baz said after a while, breaking the silence. He paused to offer the cigarette towards Louis, who declined with a soft sound, content with just nursing his drink right then. “He’s still going on and on about the fucking _Bean-Nighe_ , and _Wolvers_ , and whatnot. Apparently he managed to scare some group from Japan before anyone realised what he had been mumbling about.” 

Louis laughed out loud, reaching to clink the bottoms of their drinks together. “Can you imagine?” 

“Cheers,” Baz snorted, shaking his head amusedly, before turning to look at the settling sun.

Louis closed his eyes for a moment, just feeling the evening’s warmth against his skin. Rhythmic notes of jazz carried through the air from the pub, the saxophone soft and melancholic as the melody reached them. 

Louis tilted his head back, wind ruffling his hair. 

“Good to be back, yeah?” Baz hummed, voice quiet and drawling, like it usually got after he had had a few drinks. The smoke he blew out twirled in the air above them, clouding up, before getting caught in the wind and disappearing. 

“Yeah,” Louis agreed, lips pressed against the mouth of the glass bottle. His fingers were getting chilly and wet from the condensation. “’s good.”

* 

Louis tried to be quiet when he sneaked in through the Granny’s veranda’s door. It wasn’t too much past midnight yet and the porch light was on, moths fluttering around it. 

Louis tugged his shoes off by the door, trying to listen if Granny was still up. She wasn’t the type to head to bed ridiculously early but staying up half the night wasn’t usually her thing either.   

At first he wasn’t able to hear anything but the dulled down cawing of the seagulls outside. With careful steps Louis headed down the hall, peeking into the kitchen on his way past. It was empty but the soft sound of pages turning carried from the direction of the den. 

Louis walked across the kitchen and towards the sound, now able to see Granny sitting on the couch, reading glasses perched on her nose. 

“Hi,” he said softly, trying not to announce his presence too startlingly. Granny just lifted her head with a smile. “I thought maybe you had already gone to bed.” 

“Hi, dear,” Granny hummed, already moving the throw pillows to one side of the couch to make room for Louis. “Oh no. Can’t fall asleep with all these birdies going at it.” 

She didn’t seem too bothered, just happy to be up and have Louis curling up next to her. Louis laid his head on her lap, snuggling in until she removed the book from her hands with an amused huff.   

“How was Bazil?” she asked after they had settled down, pushing her fingers in Louis’ hair, uncaring that he had spent the day out sweating in the sun. Louis smiled contently. 

“Good, good,” Louis yawned, closing his eyes, and just enjoyed the feeling of Granny playing with his hair. It had been way too long since last summer. “We were going to sit at the pub and listen to some jazz, but Finlay had found Baz before I got there.” 

Granny snorted, instantly knowing what that meant. “Oh, Finlay.” 

“Yeah,” Louis hummed back, “we went and sat outside instead, listened to the band from there. It was nice.” 

Granny made a soft pleased sound, petting Louis’ fringe up from his forehead. 

“I might have some weeding for you to do in the garden this week,” Granny said nonchalantly after a while, although Louis was easily able to detect the teasing lilt in her voice. “You might hate it, but we don’t want you to get bored here, now do we? With Bazil working and Mungo still away.” 

Louis knew she wasn’t being serious. Granny knew Louis didn’t mind helping her around the house.   

“I might accidentally weed the carrots again,” Louis answered, trying to sound cheeky but failing horribly with the sleepiness clinging to his voice. 

He didn’t really hear what Granny answered, the sleep taking over between one breath and another, but it was safe to say she was laughing at him.

* 

Louis knew they weren’t supposed to jump from the cliffs, but then again, Louis wasn’t supposed to do a lot of the things he still ended up doing. Like the smoking. It was a miracle Granny hadn’t caught on to that yet. 

Over the years they, Louis, Mungo, and Baz, had figured out where it was safe to dive in. Well. Safe-ish. Safe enough that Louis wasn’t too worried to head out alone for a swim, like he was now. 

Even Louis wasn’t dumb enough to jump straight down on the rocks. He had rolled his eyes so hard when Granny had kept fussing about it. 

He didn’t even attempt to climb up to the highest spot they had been testing out last summer. Instead he chose to follow an invisible trail up the hill, walking further away from the end of the road where he had tossed his bike. There were no buildings visible from this far out- well, there just weren’t buildings, period. 

The first three weeks of the summer had flown past almost too quickly. Time always did that in Barra. There wasn’t much to do that he hadn’t already done the previous years but Louis didn’t mind. He loved spending time with Granny, be it trailing after her around the garden, or the kitchen, or the attic, trying to be helpful but mostly getting distracted by whatever. 

With Granny visiting her friends every now and then, and Baz working during most of the days, Louis was still left with a lot of time to kill. Which was why he was now trekking up the hill.   

Everything around him was just long expanses of tall green grass with pale-pink and white flowers tufting up from the ground like arranged bouquets. The rock underneath, emerging here and there to help Louis climb the steepest parts, was rough and dark blueish-gray. 

Warm wind ruffled through his hair, refreshing, as the humidity and the sun kept heating his skin. Louis was pretty sure his cheeks were already a bit too flushed for it to be just from the biking, but at least he had for once remembered to slap on some of the sunscreen Granny kept in the bathroom. 

The air smelled like the salt of the sea, and Louis could hear the waves waiting behind the edge of the grassy hill.

It wasn’t even a proper cliff, the spot he was eyeing. It was just a short drop. Bouquets of wild flowers and soft, long grass, and a few meters straight down to the clear, almost turquoise water. 

Louis sat down when he reached the edge. 

“Blimey,” Louis said. He normally never said ‘blimey’, but Baz and Mungo did, and it was sometimes hard to shake off the crap those two spouted out of their mouths. Mungo wasn’t even in Barra yet, and he was already making Louis sound like a tosser. 

But blimey the view was something else. Even the seals were there, diving and lazing further away by the shore. They looked like dark buoys bobbing up and down in the waves, plunging under, between one blink and another. The water was so clear that Louis was able to follow their smooth diving all the way up from the hill. 

Louis ran his fingers through the grass and flowers, reminding himself to pick out a bunch later to bring back home for Granny. He closed his eyes against the warmth of the sun and spread his arms wide, the wind puffing up his top. His heart felt too big for his chest.       

Louis sat up there for a long while, just taking in the view. 

The seals had already disappeared somewhere else after the fish when he finally kicked his Vans’ off. Louis kept humming the soft tune he remembered from last night at the pub, and dropped his cell and Granny’s keys by his shoes, and his shirt messily on top. In London his things would have been gone before they even touched the ground. But not here. Here there was nothing but the sea, the hills, and the clear sky with him. 

The fall wasn’t too massive—just a few meters, he estimated—and Louis had done higher ones. But it was always a thrill, a soft tickling pull in the very bottom of his belly just before he pushed off the edge. 

Louis whooped, feet kicking at the empty air below him, and arms reaching high towards the blue sky. The wind turned into a roar in his ears. 

And then it was freezing. 

Bubbles soared upwards from around him like a massive flock of startled white birds. The first impact with the water was loud but in the very next moment, being completely submerged in it, everything was dulled down. 

Louis didn’t come even close to touching the light sand of the bottom before he was already kicking up. 

The pressure of the sea was strong but steadying, holding him, and it allowed him to reach the surface with just a few long strokes and powerful kicks.    

It was cold above the surface now, although the sun did try to offer some warmth. 

A seagull flew overhead, wailing sharply as its strong wings beat the air. Louis tilted his chin up to follow it, legs kicking the water to stay afloat. The aftermath of his jump was already washed away by the new waves, the strength of them nudging him slowly towards the shore. 

Louis admired the glimmer of the the blue surface and how the strong strokes of his hands caused it to swirl. His skin looked pale underneath. Tiny air bubbles clung to his skin. 

It was peaceful, and beautiful, and— 

“Hurt?” a voice asked. 

Louis almost inhaled his lungs full. 

His head dipped under the surface for a short moment, arms flailing uselessly and splashing the water, sending it spraying in the air. 

He was spluttering something incoherent and spitting water out of his mouth, when suddenly he was pulled to the nearest rocks by his upper arm. 

It wasn’t a long distance; Louis could have easily reached it himself with a few kicks if needed. He still clung to the rough edge of the dark rock, and hauled himself up as soon as he was able to pull in a full lungful of air.

“Can’t swim?” the same voice asked, now closer, and it managed to startle Louis all over again. 

“I can bloody well swim,” he coughed, rubbing the water off his cheeks and from his eyes, then pushing his fringe up. The sun was almost blinding as it reflected off the waves. 

Although, the sun had nothing on the sight Louis’ eyes landed on the second he had rid the heaviest droplets from his lashes. 

That was a boy. 

That. Right there, surrounded by the wavering, clear seawater, was a boy. 

Louis coughed, blinking hard, and ran a hand over his face again, just to be safe. 

But no, the lad was still there. 

He was eyeing Louis carefully, a worried crease between his brows, and his wet lips slightly apart. The longer ends of his brown hair were glued to his neck, reaching quite far down towards his shoulders, and it probably looked a lot darker now as it was wet. The salty breeze of the sea was already trying to ruffle the drier strands on top, causing them to curl and twist, pushing them over the boy’s eyes.   

Which, Louis felt instantly nervous as their gazes met. Not necessarily in a bad way, but there definitely was something striking in this stranger’s eyes. 

The harsh light had them looking pale, like the small pools near the shore, where the sand of the beach was almost white. The tint of green in them was unique and alluring, and Louis found himself wanting to lean forward. He didn’t though, mostly because of the sudden realisation that this boy- was _naked_. 

“You hurt?” the boy was asking again, pale fairy-pool eyes calculatingly running over Louis’ body, and Louis had to focus really hard to get his brain out of the gutter. 

He managed to swallow, and then shook his head, jerkingly. 

“I’m good,” Louis breathed out, voice rough, both from swallowing the seawater and from taking in the gorgeous view in front of him. The clear water definitely did nothing to hide the long expanses of the boy’s pale body, his feet kicking lazily to keep him afloat. 

Strong looking arms were holding onto the rock Louis was sitting on, broad chest resting against the rough, dark surface of it. His legs looked long, even through the distortion of the water, and the rest of his body seemed to be made of the same gangly, slim muscle. 

The boy was grinning now, pleased. Apparently Louis’ wellbeing was worth the most dazzling of smiles, and Louis felt like clasping his own chest to contain the overly enthusiastic pulsing of his heart.

Louis was being _ridiculous._  

Maybe he was just crashing down from the adrenaline spike the jump and the nearly drowning had caused... That must be it. Louis wasn’t the type to fall all over himself because of cute boys. It was the other way around, usually, and that’s how he liked it. 

“Jumped high,” the boy commented, sounding somewhat amazed, as his eyes drifted from Louis to squint up towards the cliff. 

Louis blinked, again, and then twisted to peer up at the spot he had jumped from.

It really wasn’t _that_ high.     

“Uh, I guess,” Louis said distractedly, turning to face the boy again, clearly not having enough of staring at him yet. 

“Looked like flying,” the boy grinned, eyes childlike and wide. If Louis got stuck into the excitement in them, almost missing him pushing up from the water to sit on the rock because of it, that was nobody’s business. 

The boy carelessly wiped his hair back from his forehead and cheeks, the strands already drying into more defined curls. 

From the little he had spoken he sounded like the locals who preferred speaking gaelic, his accent heavy and syrupy as the words tumbled over his plump, pink lips.

On the inside Louis rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. Just write a bloody poem about his _plump_ lips, why don’t you?    

The boy arranged his long limbs onto the rock, toes curling over each other, and knees tucking in underneath his chin. He folded up so nicely, knobs of his spine protruding just slightly from his fair skinned back.   

They were kind of just fawning at each other, then. 

The sea was humming, waves swooshing into the rocky shore. Sparrows were just tiny black spots against the blue sky, as they flashed high above them with melodic chirrups. Maybe Louis would’ve felt more awkward studying the stranger if the boy hadn’t been doing the exact same thing. Well, except the boy wasn’t even trying to be subtle with the way he stared at Louis’ naked, goosebumped chest. 

It was cold, alright? Sitting soaked wet on a rock, on the rocky shore of the blip of a rocky island on the edges of the Atlantic Ocean. Not Louis’ fault his nipples had decided to turn into rocks as well.     

The boy looked content and comfortable, head tilted as he studied Louis. He seemed like he had all the time in the world and that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Unlike Louis, who was still a bit startled and trying to figure out what was going on. It wasn’t just any day when you found pretty boys on the beaches of Barra. _Unfamiliar_ pretty boys, too. Louis was sure he had never seen him before. He would recognise- _that._

Which reminded him…

“Where are your clothes, man?” Louis chuckled out, hoping that he didn’t sound as strained as he felt. He turned his head away just slightly, not wanting to look like he had been staring- which he definitely had been- and blinked the lingering sea salt from his eyes. “There are tourists here this time of the year.” 

The boy looked at him oddly, and then back up at the shore. He slowly tilted his head down after short pause, “Somewhere?”

“Right,” Louis replied, when he didn’t seem like he was going to elaborate. 

Louis got a broad smile in response.   

“Shouldn’t swim here,” the boy said next, thickly, his curls bouncing with the earnest way he moved his head as he spoke.

Louis lifted his brows curiously, finally starting to feel like his usual self instead of the stunned git he had momentarily been rendered into.

“Why not?” he asked, looking around. There were small fish hiding in the seaweed, near the bottom of the rock they were sitting on. “The current’s not too bad here.” 

The boy shook his head, lifting an arm and pointing past Louis, towards the shore. 

It took a while for Louis to turn his head,; shamelessly stuck admiring the long length of the pale limb, and the curious set of decorated rings on almost all his elegantly long fingers. Louis hadn’t noticed those before, with everything else going on, but now the jewels were impossible to ignore. 

When he finally did follow the line of the pointing arm he didn't see anything notable. 

The boy was already watching him when he turned back.    

“Nesting,” the boy said before Louis got the chance to ask, pointing again, and… 

Sure enough, there was a group of Gannets, large white seabirds with pale yellow heads, and black on the tips of their wings, giving them both the stink eye from where they were sitting by the shoreline. 

“Right,” Louis said, stretching  the ‘i’ slightly, and squinted against the sun. The boy grinned widely again, looking like a cherub. He was conveniently naked for that too.      

“No swim?” he confirmed happily, nodding at Louis. His damp curls tumbled over his face. 

Was it possible to fall right in love after almost inhaling half of Barra? Or maybe that was exactly why Louis was feeling so delusional. 

Louis shook his head to clear his mind. “Yeah, sure,” he agreed with a mixture of a shrug and a soft chuckle. “There’s other spots for swimming, yeah?” 

The boy clapped his hands together, eyes widening, the pale green of them looking brighter. Louis’ brows shot up in surprise at the gesture but he didn’t have to wait long for the explanation. 

“I show!” the boy said, almost breathlessly. Then his brows furrowed, and he shook his head before starting again, “I- can show. You.” 

Louis waited for a moment to be sure he was done. 

“Show me? Where to swim?” he tried softly, not wanting to make the boy feel bad for struggling with the words. 

“Yes!” the boy exclaimed nodding his head, and then pushed his hair behind his ears with both hands. He grinned at Louis, “Pretty.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s Barra,” Louis smiled back, crinkles pressing in by his eyes.

The boy tilted his head, contemplating, before answering with slightly narrowing eyes, “Yes.”

Gosh, this boy was _a cutie_.

“So where is this spot of yours?” Louis asked then. He didn’t really mind the stretching eye contact—it was making his stomach feel warm in a way he couldn’t remember happening in a while—but he really wanted to learn more about the sweet faced, curly haired stranger. 

“I can show,” the boy said seriously, and earnestly, pointing behind himself towards the open horizon with a straight arm. His hair was back on his face when he turned back around, looking at Louis expectantly. 

“So we need a kayak?” Louis asked, sitting up straighter, already feeling himself get more and more excited. It had been a few years since he had last went out on a kayak. And make that never, if a cute naked boy was added to the equation. 

“No,” the boy said slowly, looking totally confused, but somehow managed to sound like it was Louis who was being the weird one. “Swim.”   

“Yeah… I don’t think that’s such a good idea, mate,” Louis chuckled, shaking his head. See, Granny? Totally responsible and not at all reckless. 

The boy _pouted._  

“Oh, come on,” Louis huffed, rolling his eyes even though he was holding back a smile. “There’s no way I would be able to swim that far.” 

“I can help,” the boy said immediately. And fuck if that earnest face wasn’t almost enough to persuade him. 

Instead Louis dipped his hand in the water and sprinkled the clinging droplets towards the boy, laughing, “You’re so full of shit.” 

The boy made an odd squealing sound, a complete contrast to how low his voice dipped when he talked. He looked properly startled too, pink lips parted and dark lashes blinking away the drops now hanging onto them. But when he noticed Louis laughing, he quickly joined in.     

“What’s your name then?” Louis asked when their laughter started to die down. He was grinning wide, still, and he didn’t feel like reeling it back. 

The rock was harsh under his bare calves and even through the stiff jean shorts. He wasn’t sure how it wasn’t bothering his naked companion. The boy looked content enough, like he wasn’t noticing it at all. He didn’t even seem cold, unlike Louis, who was starting to really feel the chill of the air against his wet clothes and bare skin.  

“Don’ know,” the boy answered, his wording a tad clumsy. For a moment he seemed to think really hard about something, before shrugging, “The Beast?” 

Louis chortled a bit too loudly. “Sure, love. Sure.” 

The boy pouted again, the plump bottom lip pushing out indignantly, his chin following. 

“They always scream that,” he insisted, seriously, and Louis couldn’t stop the next cackle from escaping. 

The boy looked puzzled, but also tentatively pleased with himself. A tiny smile was hanging to the corners of his mouth as he watched Louis laugh. 

“Cheeky,” Louis managed to giggle out after a while, eyes almost closed against the brightness of the sun and with the gleefulness bubbling inside him. “Alright, alright. _The Beast_ it is.” 

The hell it was. 

Louis would be calling him the _Naked Curly Cherub_ in his head, NCC for short. He would have stacked ‘ _Lovely_ ’ somewhere in there too, but that felt too long. It was strongly implied with everything else, anyways.

NCC grinned, teeth white and eyes warm. “Your name?”

“Louis,” Louis said, and watched the boy mouth around it a few times, brows furrowing in concentration. Blimey, he was sweet. 

“Lou-is,” NCC repeated, and when Louis nodded approvingly, he grinned, “Pretty.” 

“Thanks, Beast,” Louis snorted. He couldn’t help it. This guy was probably the least beasty person he had ever met. Even with the whole exhibitionist thing he had going on. _And_ even then he seemed more like the free-spirit type rather than the kinky one. 

“Welcome,” NCC nodded, lifting his shoulders up to his ears, face just as sunny as the sky. He looked like a bloody kid for a moment, but- not really: something in his eyes made it look like he had seen things. It was strange, he didn’t look any older than Louis, but that was the only thing that came to his mind when their gazes met. 

With the next breeze the sea splashed them with a heavy end of a foaming wave, soaking them almost completely. 

Louis shrieked out a surprised laugh, hands flying up to his face to wipe at the seawater running down his cheeks.

NCC was giggling noiselessly, dark strands of his hair once again plastered to his temples and the back of his neck. The water was dripping down his broad shoulders, causing his pale skin shine and sparkle in the harsh rays of the sun. 

“I think that means we should head out,” Louis chuckled, pushing his fringe to the side. “I’m meeting up with a mate later tonight, though. You could join us, if you want?”        

The boy looked downright miserable as soon as Louis finished talking. 

It was such a stark contrast to his previous delighted giggling that Louis rushed to fix it, stumbling over his words, “Or not! Or not. Baz’s a total git, anyways.” 

“What’s a git?” NCC asked, peering up from under his wet lashes. Luckily he was looking more curious than sad now, although Louis suspected that his heart wouldn’t be able to handle looking at those doe eyes for too long. Not without doing something dumb. 

“Baz is,” Louis said, and then made a face. “ _Bazil_. His name is Bazil, really. But no one has time to deal with that.” 

There was nothing but confusion written on the boy’s face now, so Louis decided to just drop it. Wasn’t that important anyway. They clearly weren’t going to be meeting up with Baz, now. 

What _was_ important was the fact that Louis was about to be straightforward. Even more so than he usually was.

“If I get the kayak tomorrow, would you show me the place you were talking about earlier?” he asked, locking eyes with the boy, and refused to feel awkward. Or overthink the fact that he was kind of asking out the naked bloke that had showed up out of nowhere in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. Details.   

“Oh! Yes!” the cherub grinned happily, leaning closer towards Louis. His rings clinked against the rock and the gems adoring them gleamed in the sun. “Will show it. Lou-is will like, promise!” 

Louis couldn’t help but smile at his eagerness. Okay, and also at the stretching way he pronounced his name: as if he was mimicking an emergency vehicle. 

Louis would help him correct and perfect it tomorrow. Probably. It was kinda cute. 

Louis pointed towards the shore to their left, where the bank was sitting low and grassy, perfect for sliding the kayak in without ruining the paint on the rocks. “How about we meet there? Around midday?”

NCC nodded keenly, and Louis had already made it his mission to dig out Curly’s real name by the time they would kayak back to the shore. Naked Curly Cherub was accurate and all, but NCC was starting to sound like a news channel.     

*

 “I have an idea,” Baz yawned, and then took another bite of his leftover sandwich, “How about you shut up?” 

“How about you don’t talk with your mouth full?” Louis quipped back, wrinkling his nose as Baz finished the bread he had apparently been waiting to eat ever since his last break. It hadn’t looked that appetising, and especially not after it was already half chewed.   

Baz smacked his mouth, chewing even more obnoxiously. Louis smacked him in the arm, having him grunt, and shift further away. 

“Arse,” Baz grumbled, settling back down to lay on another patch of grass.

“Wanker,” Louis replied unbothered, and gazed around the pasture they had taken over for the evening. There was a bunch of Highland cows grazing away on the other side of the feeble fence, the long, shaggy furs on their heads looking like snazzy hairdos. “ _Anyway._ As I was _saying_ , I really don’t think I’ve seen him about before? But there’s like three people living on this whole island, so—” 

“Please,” Baz groaned, crumpling up the paper bag his snack had came in, and chucked it towards Louis. “Just stop. It’s been _hours_.” 

“I’ve barely mentioned it,” Louis pointed out, rolling his eyes, and leaned back to snatch the balled up paper bag from where it had landed. He pushed it into the side pocket of Baz’s back bag, not wanting the wind to carry the trash around. “And you owe me.” 

“For what?” Baz huffed, dusting crumbs off his hands. He ruffled his short fringe then, before pushing it up from his forehead and fixing his snapback back over it. One of the cows mooed lowly, having the whole herd lifting their heads curiously, before settling again.   

Louis scoffed, “For having to listen you whine about birds for _years._ Obviously.” 

“At least they weren’t imaginary,” Baz shrugged, closing his eyes. Louis saw the corners of his mouth twitch, though, and the way he moved his arms to cover his stomach was a clear giveaway. Louis’ friends had usually learned the hard way that he was merciless in his attacks. “Just saying.” 

Louis resisted the temptation to take advantage of the idiot’s closed eyed state, and instead bit back with words, “At least he’s real enough to still be there after the summer.” 

Low blow, Louis knew, but he also knew that Baz wouldn’t care. They had been friends long enough to have no boundaries in their banter. And it was true, too. Usually Baz’s flings didn’t survive the distance, or the separation, for the long months spent in Barra.

“How’d you know?” Baz asked, crossing his ankles, but not yet revealing his guarded stomach. “You hallucinated the bloke once, and now you’re already convinced you’ll be married by September.”

“August,” Louis corrected airily, knowing he was just allowing Baz to make more fun of him later. But honestly, August was way better: there would still be some sun and warmth left then, maybe even leaves on the trees. Granny would love it. 

Well, she _probably_ would, if she ever found out that Louis actually preferred boys over girls. And only if she would be okay with it. 

“You sure you didn’t hit your head when you jumped?” Baz snorted, blinking his eyes open. After a calculated glance he finally moved his arms back up, and folded them behind his head.

 _Amateur._  

Louis whacked him.

*

Humming quietly under his breath, Louis sent a puffy-cheeked and cross eyed selfie of himself with the kayak to Mungo. He captioned it with: “ _get your arse to barra mangoman,_ ” and littered a bunch of wave emojis all over the picture. 

He had nicked the new number from Baz earlier in the week, having gotten bored waiting around, while Baz texted with Heather. 

He hadn’t told Mungo about NCC yet, but as Baz was already working, and Granny was out limits for this kinds of topics, Louis didn’t really have anyone else to work out his nerves to. So, bothering Mungo it was. 

The blurry picture he received back was just an extreme close up of Mungo’s grey eye, and a sliver of his freckled cheekbone. “ _Is that an exercise device??_ ” the caption inquired, having Louis snort. 

He checked the hook that connected the kayak to his bike, the lightweight trolley’s small wheels scrunching on the gravel. Louis pocketed the phone without answering, knowing he’d be getting back to it later. Maybe. Depending on how this day was going to go. 

Alright. Maybe Louis was a bit nervous. 

But it was mostly just because he was so excited! He couldn’t remember when he’d been as eager to go meet someone like this, at least not this quick after meeting them the first time.       

Louis hadn’t been able to get the curly haired boy out of his mind ever since… Well, ever since he had reluctantly trekked away from the shore the previous day. Anything that was able to hold Louis’ attention for more than a few minutes was worth investigating. And man, was Louis ever going to investigate the hell out of this.

The trolley, and the kayak attached to it, were a bit wobbly to bike with, but Louis still managed somehow. Maybe it was just the force of will; showing up late not being an option that day.   

All joking aside, Louis was just eager to get there to prove Baz- and himself, too, to be honest- that the Naked Cherub was real. After overthinking it the whole night and morning, the slight chance of it having been just a hallucination caused by swallowing too much seawater, was too much to handle.   

Louis had to jump off the bike when he reached the familiar hilly slope going down towards the shoreline. The grass there was long and the ground underneath uneven, forcing him walk the bike instead. 

The added weight of the kayak tried to push the whole thing out of his hands a couple of times as he slowly inched down the descent. Having the bike zooming into the sea with the pricy, borrowed equipment didn’t seem too tempting, so Louis adjusted his hold, heated flush already reddening the apples of his cheeks. The exertion didn’t stop him from peering towards the shore, eyes squinting against the sun as he tried to spot the culprit of his nerves.   

 _Get it together, Tomlinson,_ Louis sneered at himself. 

This was so unusual from him, really. It was usually Mungo who was all lovey-dovey with his longterm girlfriend, saying all kinds of cheesy shit, with heart eyes and all. And Louis had barely just met this boy...

Louis didn’t even _do_ crushing. He was more the type to _hang_ , _bang_ and _bye_.     

He was so out of his depth here, honestly. He wasn’t even quite sure if this was a proper date or just a sightseeing trip with an overly helpful local. Having to wait to find out was making him slightly uncomfortable. 

Was this how his dates usually felt like, when he had fun watching them squirm a bit?

Louis was glad he’d never have to date himself.   

“Hey, bro!” Curly beamed suddenly up from the water, causing Louis to stop in his tracks, heart kicking against his chest.

He had been way too busy scavenging the hillside, and the shore at the foot of it, to think to look down into the water.     

Louis coughed, after the boy’s enthusiastic greeting finally registered properly. 

“Well,” he finally managed to say, after forcing the amused laugh from escaping through his teeth, “hello to you too!” After a short pause, he added, “Bro.” 

NCC grinned back at him, the wind causing his curls to fly up from the back of his head. His hair was dry all the way from the top to the hinge of his jaws, from there on the waves had reached to dampen them. Maybe he had been waiting by the bank for Louis without swimming around too much? 

Louis didn’t let his preening imagination run away too far with that, instead he curled his lips into an answering smile to match NCC’s. Also: _No._ For fuck’s sake, Louis wasn’t waiting any longer for that name. 

“So, your name isn’t really the Beast, right?” Louis asked as he sat cross legged by the edge of the water, having left the bike a few steps away. 

The boy was still smiling up at him, long, ringed fingers wrapped around tufts of grass, and his underarms pressed against the soft edge of the bank. Louis could see his feet kicking in the water, his bare bottom fair as ever through the clearness of it. 

How had Louis gotten so lucky to get to admire a view like that? 

“I don’t know,” the boy hummed, glancing up to the sky. Louis instinctively followed his gaze. Just a few fluffy clouds were decorating the blueness right then. “Maybe.” 

When Louis looked back down, he was met with an intense pair of green eyes already looking at him. They didn’t look quite as pale today, the shadows of the hills giving them far more tincture.

“You don’t know?” Louis repeated curiously, leaning his chin against his palm, and looked down at the boy playing with the small flowers hanging towards the surface of the water. He quite liked the silly act the boy was pulling, it kept him guessing, and entertained.   

“Not really,” the boy shrugged. For a second he seemed so immersed in arranging the hanging greens that it was like he had forgotten he had an audience. 

Louis would’ve loved to nervously speculate about what that meant, but he got distracted after seeing the boy’s expression when he finally lifted his gaze. It was so open it was nearly giving Louis a whiplash. “I met someone called Harry once.” The boy was serious. “I could be Harry.” 

Louis blinked, smile drooping into an honest puzzlement.     

“You… Don’t know your name?” Louis wondered aloud. The boy seemed so genuine in all his peculiarity it was confusing. Louis _loved_ it. “But- How?”   

“I don’t know how I don’t know,” _Harry_ said, brow furrowing momentarily, before shrugging again. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t know until just now that I would be Harry now.” 

“That- Doesn’t make sense?” Louis huffed, somewhat startled, his own brows furrowing too. Harry tilted his head, blinking. 

“It doesn’t?” He didn’t seem too bothered by it. “Oh.” In fact, he was smiling, too sweetly for his own good, and clearly just happy to go along with whatever. 

Louis had an inkling that this gorgeous boy would be so endlessly frustrating to him.   

“It doesn’t,” Louis confirmed. “I’m also not quite sure how you suddenly can speak- Well. All proper, like.” His accent had been way thicker the day before, the words more clumsy. Louis was sure of it. 

Harry’s expression turned worried at that, red lips parting and eyes disappearing behind his coy doe-lashes. 

“Am I doing it wrong?” he asked, pushing out of the water with just the strength of his bulging biceps. The water splashed with the move, little droplets sparkling up in the air. The boy then leaned so close to Louis he was practically on top of him. 

Louis swallowed, and leaned backwards until he ended up pulling his elbows out from underneath himself. Harry watched him fall on his back, his whole body subtly moving to follow after Louis’. “I figured that if I just did it like you did, I would be alright, but—” 

“Wait. What?” Louis shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was hearing- but also to keep it together while there was a naked, wet boy in his lap. “What do you mean ‘do it like I do’?”

Harry sighed, his broad shoulders rising with it- also effectively causing Louis to realise how tiny he suddenly felt- and leaned to rest his head on his palm. 

There were fat droplets of seawater dripping from the ends of his damp curls, down his wrist, and noiselessly drumming onto Louis’ vest covered chest. 

Alrighty then. 

“Well,” Harry said, “I noticed that you were wording- _Talking_ in the way you are? And that must mean you like that way of talking, right? So, I thought you would like it if I talked that way too.” 

The odd mix of the slow drawl of Harry’s voice, the nonsense he was spouting, and the cherubic smile on his face was messing with Louis’ head. What even was this- kid? Man? Person? 

“How about,” Louis started slowly, swallowing, and then awkwardly patted Harry’s very bare, very _there_ shoulder, “you just talk the way you usually do, and I promise I’ll like it just fine? More than just _fine,_ actually. Because, no offence, but you don’t seem like the type to call anyone a ‘ _bro_ ’.”

Harry looked lost, then, as if Louis had just wiped out his entire vocabulary. 

Louis instantly felt a tug of guilt in the bottom of his stomach, and he kind of wanted to backtrack. What if Harry was the biggest bro of all the bros? It didn’t seem likely, but Louis should have learned enough from his past experiences to not judge by the cover. Even if the cover was a delightfully naked one.   

Before he was able to lift his fist up for Harry in peace offering, he was met with the already familiar doe-eyed blink, and an earnest smile.

“Alright, sweetie,” Harry nodded, leaning down to smack a seawatered kiss on Louis’ forehead. Then he proceeded to roll over him, and drop back into the water with an impressive graze and stealth. There was barely even a splash.

“Sweetie?” Louis repeated, dumbstruck, and hoisted himself up to lean back on his elbows. It was a serious effort not to reach a hand out to touch his tingling forehead. 

Louis couldn’t decide which was more surprising: To find a cute nudist boy at the beach in Barra, or have to find out that the cute nudist boy in question was actually an old lady?

 _Sweetie…_  

Harry’s curls were plastered to his cheeks when Louis looked down at him, and there were droplets hanging from his dark lashes. Somehow he managed to look devious underneath the confusing _all-knowing calm sweet curious innocence_.            

Well, maybe not that all-knowing. The daft was already distracted; looking down at his feet and talking to the fish. 

Louis rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.

*

In the end they hadn’t even gotten the kayak in the water, instead sitting leaned against it on the grassy bank, talking. And splashing each other like little kids whenever it got too warm. 

It wasn’t because Louis hadn’t tried, no. He had actually paid for the rental of that thing, and the bike ride hadn’t been the most comfortable, either. But. 

Apparently it was _gross_ and uncomfortable, and would bother everything else living in and around the water. Harry’s face had been so openly distrustful when Louis had tugged the kayak closer, that it hadn’t taken him long to just abandon the whole idea.   

When Louis had gotten back home to Granny’s that evening, he had been embarrassingly dazed and cheerful. Not that he wasn't in an alright mood for the most of the time, but this was- something else. 

His face was fucking pink, alright? 

And Louis didn’t even _care_. 

Granny was having tea and a late night gossip with Ms. Morrison when Louis floated past the den, then backtracking when Granny called after him.

Louis was kind of stuck in his own head, but he stayed to chat for a bit, anyway. 

Well. Mostly he spent the time trying not to seem too obvious while the tower of cookies piled up in front of him grew, silly little smile lingering on his face.

When he finally did wander into his room, both Granny and Ms. Morrison, looked like they knew exactly what he was up to, and Louis felt like he was eight years old all over again. 

Louis flopped down on the narrow bed of his tiny room, heavy breath escaping him before he properly relaxed onto it. He knew he’d still have to get up to shower but that felt like too much effort right then. 

Soft chirruping of birds carried in through the window, and it was light enough out that it could have been daytime. 

The room was like a time-capsule from the previous years, looking exactly the same it had since Louis had been fourteen, or something. No one else really stayed there other than him, so Granny had always let him have it as he pleased. 

Louis dragged his top teeth over his bottom lip, staring at the ceiling. 

Everything was the same, even Louis, with the pile of cookies on the nightstand, but... Something inside his chest was already shifting. 

*

“Are you joining me today?” Harry asked, voice sort of breathless, and his eyes bright. His hair was like a messy cloud, the salty water drying in it having the curls look particularly springy. 

He looked somewhat triumphant to notice that Louis hadn’t brought the _gross_ kayak this time.

“I- I better not,” Louis said hesitantly, eyeing the foaming water that was climbing higher and higher with each new wave. The whole sea was looking a bit wilder than it had during the past weeks; strong currents twisting underneath the surface, despite the day still being warm and sunny. 

Louis was a decent swimmer, but with the open sea even he wasn’t overly confident. Maybe it was leftovers of the way Granny had always drilled him about the dangers of the invisible tides.

The gentle excitement slipped from Harry’s face. 

“Oh,” Harry said softly, clearly trying to rein in his disappointment. Louis almost pulled an involuntary sad face witnessing it. “So… You don’t enjoy water?” 

“No, no, that’s not it. I like swimming,” Louis rushed to explain. This boy clearly loved spending time near the water. Or rather, in it. Louis didn’t want to sound disinterested. “This shore is gorgeous too.” 

Harry’s dismayed expression quickly swapped to an amusedly preening one. Just for a second, though. His brows suddenly dropped back down, his whole face transforming with the oddly concerned furrow. 

“You do not… have a fondness of me?”

Firstly, who the fuck even said something like that? Secondly, how dared this naked cherub man suggest that Louis wasn’t already arse over tits for him? Which he wasn’t, of course. Louis had some serious self-control. _And,_ thirdly, to top that all off, what did he think he was doing with the heartbroken, wet doe-eyes? 

Oh, hell no.

“Fishing, are we, love?” Louis chuckled, knowingly squinting his eyes at the innocent display Harry had going on. 

The boy looked startled, then his brows furrowed. 

“No?” he replied slowly, eyes flicking down towards the water before rising back up questioningly, “I’m not- fishing? That’s not very nice.” 

Louis huffed out a laugh, and dropped down to lay on the grass. _And_ to get closer to the confusedly staring boy. “It’s alright, you're pretty cute.” Harry’s face instantly cleared at that, even his curls seemed to perk up. Louis was so screwed. “And I might _just_ have _a fondness_ of you _,_ too. 

That was when Harry pushed himself out of the water. 

“But only a little bit,” Louis smirked as he turned to lay on his back. He followed how the dripping boy rolled onto the grass and squirmed close enough to softly headbutt his upper arm. 

Harry stayed there, unabashedly laying on his back, and fingers distractedly raking the soft green growth they were laying on. He let his damp temple rest against Louis’ arm, just slightly.

Louis swallowed, eyes embarrassingly unsure where it was proper to settle. He ended up just staring up towards the sky, and breathed in the fresh ocean air.   

“I wanted to show you the spot,” Harry mumbled after a while, long after his skin had already dried in the sun, and Louis had closed his eyes under the toasty warmth in the air. Somewhere higher up, on the cliffs of the hillside, there was a flock of seagulls chorusing together. 

It took Louis a second to gather his sun-hazy thoughts enough to realise they were talking about the allegedly nice swimming location. 

“I’m not too keen on drowning just to see a pretty view, though,” Louis chuckled and lifted his arms up, grunting softly as the move stretched his back. Harry turned to look up at him, when he felt the arm move from behind his head. His forehead pressed against Louis’ upper ribs instead, and when Louis let his hands fall back down, he looped one of them over Harry’s chest. 

Smooth should’ve been Louis’ middle name. 

He grinned, hiding it against his own shoulder. 

“You wouldn’t drown,” Harry huffed, sounding long-suffering, like one might sound when talking with a stubborn toddler. He did snuggle closer to Louis’ arm though, his ringed fingers curling around Louis’ wrist. 

Louis liked that enough to let the toddler thought go.   

“How about we go for a walk, instead?” Louis suggested. He didn’t really want to move, now that he had managed to get close enough to touch, but… He didn’t want them to get bored, either.   

Louis could feel Harry turn his head, and when he peered down, he could see the boy eyeing the sandy rocks. 

“Okay,” Harry said, fingers briefly squeezing Louis’ wrist, “But if anyone has a sword, we’re coming back.” 

Louis stilled, although his brows shot up in amused puzzlement. _A sword?_ He couldn’t help but breathe out a soft laugh. 

“Alright,” Louis said after a moment, and patted Harry’s bare chest before pushing to sit up, “That’s a sensible concern, I suppose.” 

Harry nodded, still holding onto Louis’ wrist. Which- was held against Harry’s chest. Harry’s chest that Louis had just patted, and which was still just as bare. 

Because the boy was still starkers.

Louis cleared his throat, fixing his sun-warmed fringe with his free hand. 

Harry had already stood up, and was now gently tugging on Louis’ hand to get him to follow. Which Louis did quickly; Harry standing while he was still sitting on the ground had him on eye level with something more than just a bare chest.

Louis cleared his throat again when Harry finally let go of his wrist to push his unruly curls behind his ears. He seemed unbothered, happily squinting against the sun, _dimples_ pressing into his cheeks. 

“So, like. Clothes?” Louis tried thinly, hands turning into fists inside the pockets of his shorts where they had sneaked in to hide. 

“Clothes are uncomfortable,” Harry explained, and then draped himself against Louis’ shoulder, cheek resting on the top of his head as if he had always done so.

Harry easily melted into the position, softly humming as they started to inch along the shoreline. 

Well, Louis was just following along, really, kind of dazed.

Must’ve been the sun.

 

*

 Turned out, Harry was _very_ tactile.

Not that Louis was complaining—because he wasn’t!—at all. It was just that the dude kept showing up starkers whenever they met. 

And that? That wasn’t helping Louis to keep a cool head. 

Usually Harry was floating in the shallow waters, stacking up towers with small rocks, or doing some other unfairly cute and ridiculous shit like that. One time Louis had found him asleep in the flowers a little further up the hill, almost disappearing in the green growth surrounding him.

Louis still had a hard time believing he was real, sometimes. Like? How? How do you even exist, Harry? 

“The sea-foams made me,” Harry had shrugged once, a couple of weeks ago, peering down to the waves, smiling. 

Louis had rolled his eyes, and unapologetically knocked the git over the edge of the bank.

But yes, Harry was tactile. And after he had figured out that Louis didn’t particularly mind Harry being all up in his business, he had made it his business to be all up in Louis’ business.

At least it was a great assurance, that Louis maybe wasn’t in this _feelings-_ thing alone. Or at least in the _wanting to touch_ -thing. Which— potato, potato. 

The other plant maybe just a bit more intensely spiced… 

“I can’t believe you're sitting on me with your cock out,” Louis huffed towards the sky, eyes a bit wider than he would have liked. Harry’s skin was still wet from the sea, the water soaking Louis’ top and the waistband of his shorts. 

Not only that, but Harry had also nicked Louis’ snapback. 

So, you know, it was safe to say he looked like a total berk. Perching on top of a fully clothed Louis, pale arse all out and a fucking Vans snapback on his messy, dripping curls.   

“You can take yours out if you want, I don’t mind,” Harry assured, nodding his head with eyes so innocent that it was hard to believe what kind of bull he was spouting out of his mouth. And the worst part? His flirting was so forward and suggestive that it was almost too much for Louis to handle. And yet the muppet had the nerve to actually look like he had no idea what he was doing. “I don’t know why you’d want to wear these things anyways. So itchy.” 

Harry was pulling a face, poking at Louis’ belly and eyeing his top distastefully. 

“Because that’s what people usually do,” Louis said pointedly, sticking his tongue out. Harry stared his mouth for a bit, and then, almost experimentally, copied him. “You don’t seem to mind the snapback, though.”

“I like the snapback,” Harry said, speaking around his tongue which he had left hanging out, and lifted a hand to run his fingers over the fabric of the hat. 

“And you’re such a child,” Louis answered, almost too fondly, and pushed Harry’s tongue back inside his mouth even though it was gross. Harry licked his lips. And Louis’ fingers. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m not a child,” Harry said, while actually teething on Louis’ knuckle, his mouth gentle. Louis own mouth was forgotten ajar, eyes unblinking. 

“Uh-huh,” Louis managed to breathe out after a stretching moment, his throat clicking as he swallowed. Harry peppered kisses on his flushing fingertips, and then out of nowhere smacked his open palms down on Louis’ chest.  

It startled Louis, but that was nothing new when he was with Harry. The boy seemed to lack some sort of primal ‘how to human without startling the crap out of everyone’- precoding. 

Louis’ bitten hand slowly lowered down to rest on Harry’s thigh.   

“Did I tell you yet about that time I got into a fight with the otters?” Harry enquired, leaning down so his curly head blocked the direct sun from Louis’ face. 

“Sod off,” Louis snorted, squeezing the strong muscle under his palm. Then he did it again, with both hands; his left one having inched its way to Harry’s other thigh. Because, huh. _Very_ nice. 

“What?” Harry seemed confused, but then just shook his head, “They were being mean, and it was my pebble.” 

“Sod off,” Louis said again, mouth turning into an uncontrollable grin. This boy was so full of shit. Just yesterday he had described how he had swam to _Ireland_. Last week it had been fucking _Shetland_. 

“Why are you laughing!” Harry pouted, digging his fingers into Louis’ chest, pulling at his top. “It’s not funny, Lou. They bite! And the pebble _was_ mine _,_ I don’t care what they said.” 

Louis laughed harder, the strength of it causing Harry to sway. 

With a grumpy frown Harry moved his hands up from Louis’ chest, and suddenly his palms were on both sides of Louis’ face, fingers curving behind his ears.

He pressed his mouth against Louis’, cutting him off very effectively, and _very_ quickly because _huh._  

Louis’ lashes stuttered in surprise before his eyes fell closed with a pleased sigh.

Harry tasted like the mix of the sea and the cool summer breeze, and other nonsensical, ridiculous, teen novel stuff Louis’ brain decided to throw at him right then. 

Louis’ fingers dug down on Harry’s thighs, the pale skin under his fingertips turning even paler.   

* 

Before Louis knew it, they were spending almost all of their time together. 

Well, they already had been doing that ever since they had first met, but soon it got even, well… More. 

It was verging on suspicious, how well they got along. Something had just instantly clicked in place between them, something that just felt _right._ Louis was having the best summer in a long while—if not ever—and it hadn’t even reached the halfway mark quite yet. 

They didn’t even _do_ much, which was the ridiculous part. They just lazed around, kissed a lot—now that _that_ had became a thing—and then lazed some more.

Time seemed to know they were enjoying themselves, and even though Louis wasn’t too worried about the summer ending quite yet, he also knew not to let himself dwell on that thought. In fact, whenever he wasn’t with Harry, he tried to keep busy otherwise. Sitting still with his own thoughts only led to overthinking. Luckily Harry was just as eager to stay glued to Louis’ side—or so it seemed—and it helped Louis to keep his wandering mind at bay.   

However, _that_ had kind of created a whole new problem… Louis admitted it, okay? It was obvious. He knew he was acting like a proper tit, barely having spent any time with Mungo, who had finally flown in the previous week. Louis hadn’t really seen anyone else either. 

Well. Except Harry, of course. _Of course_. 

Wanting to fix that was exactly why Louis was heading down to the beach, now. 

“It’s alive!” Baz called instantly after spotting him, slow clapping dramatically as Louis made his way down the path towards the bonfire. The flames were already high and crackling.

Mungo whooped obnoxiously, his girlfriend, Freya, smiling amusedly from underneath his arm. 

Louis rolled his eyes, grinning at them. 

“Yeah yeah,” he chuckled, shrugging, and pulled a face when he noticed Baz waggling his brows at him. _Yeah_ , so maybe Louis had felt like gushing about Harry a bit more. Whatever. 

It had been totally dignified and cool gushing, too. No key-smashing included, absolutely not. 

Louis dropped down next to Freya, kissing her on the cheek in greeting, before settling on the soft, cool sand. 

She was a nice girl; had stuck around Mungo for years, now, even though she stayed in Barra all year around, while Mungo spent his winters in the Highlands. She was round faced and sweet, patient enough to tolerate the bullshit the three of them spouted most of the time. 

Her shoulder length, wavy hair was dark brown, contrasting Mungo’s blond, freckled complexion. She looked fondly exasperated of the way the boy kept tugging at her half-up ponytail.    

“What’s all this talk about some new naked dude, Tomlinson?” Mungo inquired, getting right into it in the very characteristic way of his, “Huh? Let’s hear it, then.” 

“Oh, I _wonder_ where you could’ve heard about that,” Louis leered at Baz, who just bared his teeth into an overly exaggerated grin. Louis huffed. 

“You knew this was going to happen, don’t even pretend,” Baz lazily defended his tattling, “The only even slightly interesting thing that’s happened in months on this bloody rock? Obviously it’s going to be shared.” 

“Naked. Man.” Mungo pressed impatiently, kicking sand towards Louis, most of it ending in the fire. Freya smacked his thigh, leaning in to check the flames hadn’t suffered.

“Louis’ got a _boyfriend_ ,” Baz singsonged, not even giving Louis the chance to reply himself. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Louis sniffed, crossing his arms. He pretended the heat on his face was from the fire. 

“Yet,” Freya added, brown eyes twinkling goodnaturely. Louis poked a tongue out at her, rather childishly. She was supposed to be the nice one. 

“Great. Cute. Adorable.” Mungo deadpanned, counting along the words with his fingers, “Still not explaining the naked part.” 

Louis huffed and rolled his eyes, before shrugging, “Harry’s just not a big fan of clothes, I guess.” 

“Harry is so lovely,” Baz informed them earnestly, barely letting Louis finish, “He’s like an actual _cherub_. Curls and everything.”  

Mungo reached out to tap on Baz’s arm to get his attention, looking for a confirmation, “Louis said that?” He was clearly holding back a cackle. A cackle which tumbled out loudly after he got the answering, amused nod he’d been waiting for. “What a ninny!”   

“Fuck off, Mango,” Louis grumbled, although he wasn’t quite able to hold back the small smile forcing its way to his face. 

Mungo and Baz seemed to be having a blast with it, the latter reciting some more extracted lines from Louis’ texts. _Obviously_ exaggerating. Louis glared. 

“I think it’s sweet,” Freya offered, nudging his shoulder with her own, smiling. “Is he visiting?” 

“Thank you!” Louis answered loudly—pointedly—before facing her, twisting away from the two idiots. “And no. I think he’s local?” 

“You don’t know?” Mungo gasped then, batting his pale lashes, “Been too busy snogging to actually get to know him?”

“Oh, do shut up,” Louis snorted, throwing a twig at him. “Not everyone’s been together for eighty-three years like you two.”

In all honestly, Louis just didn’t feel like explaining Harry’s quirky stories and vagueness, figuring it was easier to leave it at that. And well... He _didn’t_ know. No matter how much he didn’t want to admit that; he just had absolutely no clue. Harry was… Something else. The boy loved talking, but most of it was…

Harry was- very _unique_. That’s why Louis liked him so much.   

“Huh. I could swear you just said you weren't together,” Baz mused then, scratching his dumb scruff conspiringly. Freya smirked too, chugging the twig Louis had sent their way into the fire. “When are you bringing him around, anyway? Or is this this the last time we’ll see you the whole summer?”

Louis groaned, flopping down on his back, sand flying.      

“I already regret coming today,” Louis lied, grumbling, “Why’d I ever want to introduce you lot? Except maybe you Frey-Frey. You’re alright.” 

“Ha!” Freya called happily, patting Louis’ stomach.

“Stop flirting with my girl, Tommo,” Mungo said, kicking Louis’ thigh, and tightening his hold around the said girl’s shoulders. Said girl made a suffering face. 

“You’re aware that we’ve been talking about a _Harry_ , not a _Harriet_?” Louis asked, tone snide, as he kicked back.

Honestly, they were all just a bunch of children, sometimes. 

“I don’t trust you,” Mungo complained, patting the sand on his other side, beckoning Freya to move away from Louis. “Come sit here, love. The evil man won’t get to you, here.” 

Freya squinted at the freckled blond tiredly, and then wriggled away from under his arm. She snuggled down into Louis’ side, instead. 

Baz grinned at Mungo, who was holding his chest in betrayal, “How does it feel to get dumped for a wee laddy with a nakey boyfriend?” 

“Oi!” Louis protested with a laugh, just as Mungo declared, “Absolutely disgusting.”

*

Louis squirmed on his back, slowly and carefully inching sideways while keeping an eye on the electric wire hanging just a mere centimetres from his face. Louis was pretty sure he had grass and sticks stuck in his hair, and oddly enough he was more worried about that than the lurking voltages. 

It didn't take him too long to be able to roll on his knees and stumble back up, dusting some of the dirt and grass from his clothes. He picked up the back bag he had thrown over the fence a moment before and tugged one of the straps over his shoulder. 

It was a lot chillier that day. The sky was dark grey and the clouds were moving fast with the wind that was picking up. It hadn't rained yet though, which was good considering Louis' decision to cut through one of the pastures. 

The ground was dry, allowing him to just pat off the lingering dirt from his clothes. He was wearing a bit heavier outfit than what he had gotten used to the past weeks. Luckily Granny had been insistent enough when ordering Louis to throw on a proper jacket. 

Just by looking at the sky Louis already knew he'd end up drenched today. And to think he had almost left out in a flimsy t-shirt. He'd have to remember to let Granny boast her "I told you so"s in the evening. It always made her smug and pleased when she was able to take care of Louis better than Louis himself. 

With a fond shake of his head Louis started to jog alongside the fence and towards the shoreline. The ground was less uneven by the poles on which the pasture’s fence wires were attached to, a faint footpath allowing him to focus on his surroundings rather than his feet. 

The wind was messing with his hair and it hummed loudly in his ears as he jumped over a small rivulet. The heaviness of the breeze had the long grass of the massive field rippling like water. 

Louis was getting a bit out of breath already when the sea finally properly peeked out from behind the hilly grounds. He slowed down to a walk, and snorted out a sudden laugh when he noticed he had had a curious companion trailing after him.

Young looking horse trotted towards him, its buddies clearly more interested in eating, grazing away in the middle of the pasture.

"Hey ya," Louis greeted his new friend, stopping completely to allow the animal to reach him. 

The horse was bigger than it had looked just a moment ago, but Louis was still quite sure it was just a youngster. Her coat was a bit dusty with dried mud but mostly it looked grey. Her soulful eyes were surrounded by thick, dark lashes and her legs were long and gangly. Quite like Harry’s, to be honest. 

Louis snorted again, delighted by the image, and amused by the obvious one-track mind he had clearly developed. 

"I'm just going to assume you're a lady, although I have no idea," he told the horse, that was now close enough to sniff his hair. Which she did. Very ticklingly. "I hope you won't be offended if you're actually a boy-horse. Shouldn't matter, you're a very pretty moose either way." 

The horse huffed, sticking her big head close, and nosed Louis’ jean’s pocket. Then his jacket’s. She fumbled with her soft mouth, apparently trying to get half of the thick fabric into her mouth. 

"Oi," Louis chastised her gently, pushing her heavy head away with some difficulty, "I don't have any treats, you glutton." 

The horse eyed him distrustfully, clearly not having any of Louis’ nonsense, and tried to find treats from his palms next. 

"Fine. You're a cute moose, I'll give you that," Louis admitted, smiling when the horse snorted, hot air pressing out from between his fingers. He picked a grass culm from his feet with his free hand, and offered it out. The horse happily munched it away. "I'll bring you something next time, yeah? I'll ask Granny what you guys can have. But you might have to share." 

The other horses were lifting up their heads, peeking up at them, having noticed Louis feeding something to their pal. 

"Come on, off you go," Louis ordered then, patting the horse's wide shoulder. He didn't need the whole herd ambushing him, begging for treats. 

Also, he really wanted to get to Harry before the rain started. 

The animal finally accepted her treatless fate, and focused on sniffing around the tufting grass. Louis patted her the one last time before continuing the short distance down to the shore. 

It didn’t take him long to reach the dark rocky edge of the sea, and Louis huffed when he immediately spotted Harry in the water.    

He was doing something near the bottom, serenely floating in place while raking his hands across the pale sand, clouding the clarity of it. It didn’t stop Louis from witnessing his usual, naked self, though. The sea was too clear for that.

Luckily Louis had anticipated this, packing an extra outfit for the hippie. 

“Harry!” Louis called out, even though he knew it wouldn’t be heard. 

Harry’s head snapped up, and their eyes met through the waves and the cloudy sand lingering near the bottom. The boy grinned, feet easily curling underneath himself, and he kicked up from the bottom. 

Louis gaped. 

Harry’s head broke the surface just a second later, the mop of his hair plastered over his face. Louis was still able to see his beaming smile, though, and it didn’t take long for Harry to shake his head like a dog. 

The water sprayed everywhere, some even landing on Louis, startling him out of his daze. 

“Lou, you came!” Harry cheered, already having passed the rockier spot on the shore, and was now grabbing handfuls of the grass. 

“How’d you hear me?” Louis asked, watching as Harry hauled himself up from the waves and onto the soft bank, spraying water in the air like he was straight from some dramatic fragrance commercial.

He blinked up at Louis, messily pushing hair behind his ears, “You said my name?” 

“I- yeah?” Louis answered, and Harry smiled with a nod, going back to what he had been doing. Which was pawing at his wet curls to get it from sticking to his cheeks and neck.

Louis shook his head, deciding to drop it. Instead he turned his focus on Harry’s bare legs, one of his feet still hanging over the edge of the bank. 

“Don’t you ever wear clothes?” Louis complained, once again. This was their usual routine by now. Louis didn’t even expect anything else anymore, nor did he really care. 

This time the clothes were a bit more necessary than usual, though. 

“They’re scratchy,” Harry said, as always, and twisted to sprawl out on his back. And then he sprawled even more, after noticing Louis watching. 

He was shameless. Laying there with his cock and tits out like that, not caring who saw, but knowing that Louis wasn’t able to look away.

Louis cleared his throat, eagerly running his gaze up and down the revealed pale skin. What? Harry wasn’t the only one who knew how to be shameless. “So how do you reckon we get to Granny’s without you getting arrested?” 

“I don’t get it,” Harry grumbled, whiny, “Romans used to be _proud_ of the naked body. What’d they be arresting me for, huh? For being pretty?” 

Louis snorted, silently agreeing with the last part; he kind of wanted to arrest Harry for that himself. “More like public indecency.”

“Wait,” Harry said, clearly backtracking, and squinted up at Louis, “Did you say ‘ _to Granny’s_?’” 

Louis grinned, watching Harry sit up, excitement lighting up his face. 

“Well,” he teased then, faking a frown for the sake of it, “I guess we can’t now, with your naked arse, and all.” 

“I’ll be right back!” Harry declared loudly, jumping up, and startling Louis.

The boy was quick to disappear behind the slope of the nearest hillside, looking ridiculous staggering around with his bare giraffe legs. Or foal legs. Like the one on the pasture. 

If Louis hadn’t been so stunned by his sudden reaction, he’d have found the said naked arse mooning him way more amusing. Instead his mind quickly settled on fond. Once again. Yeah, it was a pretty familiar feeling by now.

When Harry came back, after some ten confusion filled minutes, he was clad in forest green rain coat, dark jeans, and a pair of comfy looking laced boots. Scrunched down grey socks were peeking out from around his ankles, making him look like some indie hipster with an adventurous hiking blog, or something. And the jeans… They looked as ridiculously snug-fitting as something that Baz would wear.

“Oh, so _now_ he has clothes,” Louis huffed, arms flying to the side in amused exasperation. He was still glad he had packed the extra outfit though; you could never be too sure with Harry. 

“I’m fairly good at adapting!” Harry announced proudly, face eager and chest puffing, his hands held neatly behind his back as he stopped in front of Louis. 

“Well,” Louis answered, slowly, not sure if it would've been inappropriate to just burst out laughing in the face of the overly enthusiastic boyscout, “that’s- cool.” 

Harry grinned, bringing his hands to the front to smooth down his jacket. His legs seemed even longer and more shapely than usual in the tight jeans, the lax hem of the jacket just emphasising the look.      

“Huh,” Louis noted in interest, distractedly eyeing the gangly mess of a boy standing in front of him. Harry was happily peering down to his newly acquired boots, going as far as lifting one feet of off the ground, twisting his ankle from side to side while admiring it. 

Louis didn’t even try to stop himself from reaching out, and just grabbed Harry by the hips.       

“The coat _is_ itchy, though,” Harry informed, while pliantly going where he was being tugged. Which just happened to be right against Louis’ chest. 

He drawled something more about the uncomfortableness of the garment, but Louis was too busy hooking his chin over the boy’s shoulder to listen. He leaned up to his tiptoes, and looked down as he sneaked his hands into Harry’s back pockets. 

“Louis!” Harry squeaked breathlessly, as he finally caught on with Louis’ plan of feeling the heck up of him through the jeans. 

Louis hid his smirk against the checkered inside of Harry’s jacket collar. 

“I thought we were going…” Harry muttered, agreeable arms still winding behind Louis’ back, as Louis himself nuzzled into the sliver of warm neck peeking from beneath the jacket. 

“Changed my mind,” Louis hummed, kissing the nice smelling skin below Harry’s ear. Kneading the jean covered cheeks had turned out to be even more delightful than he had anticipated. What a nice little body. 

Louis sucked a tiny mark on Harry’s pale throat, the lovebite standing out in stark contrast when he pulled back to admire it. _A nice little body_ , and Louis was lucky enough to get to touch it like this.          

Harry squirmed, breath stuttering by Louis’ ear. He was clearly getting worked up by just the little touching that had been going on. Louis allowed himself to feel a bit smug, kneading the firm muscle under his palms some more. 

“Lou…” the boy whined, pressing his lips briefly against Louis’ temple and then the side of his head. His hips rutted experimentally forward and down, somehow having managed to capture Louis’ thigh between the both of his. 

“We’re not having sex in a bush,” Louis snorted, before Harry could get too excited. Louis felt him lift his head from where he had been nuzzling Louis’ shoulder; he was looking around, “ _Or_ on a field.”

Harry huffed, fingers pulling at the back of Louis’ coat disgruntledly, as if he had honestly thought they'd be doing anything in the wilderness. Ridiculous boy. 

Louis smacked a kiss on his cheek, only leaning away after he could feel the dimple pressing in underneath his lips. 

With a final, savouring squeeze on Harry’s bum, Louis stepped back, catching one of his ring adorned hands in his own while doing so.

“Come on then, Harold. We don’t have the whole day.” 

Harry protested indignantly at that, lowly grumbling something about not being the one who had started it.

Louis just grinned up at him, and dragged him along the uneven footpath, the moors spreading out before them. 

*

Louis really hadn’t planned on finding someone to snog for the summer. 

He certainly wasn’t complaining, no, but in no way had that even crossed Louis’ mind as a possibility. 

To find _a boy_? While in Barra? Yeah, right. 

But. There he was. 

A lot of sneaking about was involved now, especially after the first time Louis had brought Harry along to Granny’s. In all honestly, Louis didn’t think Granny would have a problem with them- she probably already suspected something with the way Louis had always boasted about his dates in the past, without dropping any names or genders. Louis just didn’t feel like risking it right then, when everything was going so smoothly. He was having a good time with Harry, and it was _fun_. There was no reason to tamper with that. 

Louis was also carefully avoiding addressing the fact that he really wouldn’t have minded if the whole thing between Harry and him would’ve been a bit more than just some heated snogging. 

Because… Maybe it already was? At least for Louis. 

He really had let himself to fall into this headfirst, hadn’t he? 

And… Louis was still painfully aware that the summer wouldn’t last for forever, alright? He wasn’t a complete idiot. 

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t pretend it did. 

*

 Louis pulled a rose-golden ring off of Harry’s index finger and moved slightly so their shadows weren’t hiding the dainty details of the craftsmanship. 

Even though the twisting and crossing Celtic knot design looked almost too fragile in its delicateness, the ring was surprisingly heavy on the palm of Louis’ hand. Maybe it was because of the small blue gemstones that were attached evenly around the band, shimmering in the hazy light of the setting sun, much like the sea not far from them. 

Harry smiled softly, watching Louis quietly while Louis studied the jewel. Louis could feel the gaze on his skin and it had him feeling tingly. There was a soft, warm breeze in the air, ruffling their hair: Harry’s curls pouring over his eyes and Louis’ fringe brushing back from his forehead. There were no sounds of traffic, no people. Only the chirruping of the sparrows flying overhead, and the hum of the waves licking back up towards the shore. The wild flowers of the hillside were gently bowing all around them, softly bobbing up and down.    

Harry took the ring from Louis’ palm with one hand, and tangled their fingers together with the other. He slid the ring on Louis’ left middle finger with an easy movement, and then leaned in to peck his cheek. 

“You can have this one,” he said happily, while Louis tried to pretend he wasn’t flushing all over. “The person who gave it to me told it reminded them of the sea, which is true. I think it goes well with the colour of your eyes.” 

It was the heat and the direct sunlight, obviously. Louis wasn’t the type to blush because of some silly, ridiculously clichéd, dumb _boys_.   

“Did you know that in some Highland traditions people used to wear their wedding rings on their left hand’s third finger, and not on the ring finger?” Louis hummed out, after quietly clearing his throat. His eyes squinted against the slowly setting sun as he took in the little details of the ring on his finger. “I think some people still do that. Granny was talking about it…” 

“Really?” Harry spoke softly, eyes almost hidden behind his lashes as he, too, looked down at Louis’ hand.

The ring was a bit too big for him but the colour of the gems were just right, Louis supposed. 

“Yeah,” Louis answered, turning their joined hands to inspect the way his new ring fit in the row of Harry’s, as their fingers were intertwined. “It’s because of the history with the Romans, and their traditions. They believed that there was a direct link, a vein, from this finger to your heart. So wearing the ring there symbolised a connection to love, and life, and commitment to the wedding oath.”   

Louis lifted his gaze, about to add that traditionally only women wore the wedding band, but he got caught off guard by Harry already watching him, smiling. It was the soft and curious, and a tad bit awed, smile he seemed to be stuck with a lot when Louis was around. 

Louis closed his mouth, the corners pushing up as he tilted his head. He lifted his brows questioningly, but Harry just smiled wider, shaking his head. His curls were caught in the passing breeze, swaying and coiling in a tranquil dance.     

“Don’t you feel like a proper pirate wearing them?” Louis decided to ask instead. 

He pulled his hand back, just enough to be able to run his fingertips over the shiny adornments on each of Harry’s fingers. There were quite a few of them, all looking expensive and gorgeous: antique. 

“Can I try them all on?” Louis asked curiously, already reaching for the one with a darkened gold band and a big, blood red ruby embedded in the middle of it.   

Only Harry snatched his hand back with a sharp jerk. 

His fingers curled into a fist while his other hand curved around it like a shield. He seemed surprised by his own reaction as well; staring wide eyed down at his hands, now pressing tightly against his chest.      

Louis blinked, stunned at the suddenness of it, but mostly because of the sharp, uncharacteristic defensiveness clouding Harry’s features. Louis’ reaching fingers were still hanging in midair. “Oh! I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” 

“No, no,” Harry cut him off shaking his head, his shoulders already relaxing. He licked his lips and uncurled from the startled hunch he had fallen into. “You can- here. Just. Not the red one. It’s- Not that one.” 

“It’s okay, Haz, you don’t have to—” 

“I really like these three,” Harry said, ignoring him. He reached to cradle Louis’ right hand in his own, turning their palms up. With a push of his thumb he slid the bands on his left pinkie and ring finger off, letting them roll on Louis’ palm. “They go together.” 

“Oh,” Louis managed to say, slowly lowering his gaze from where he had been trying to meet Harry’s eyes. 

The silver shined liked it had just been polished, casting reflections on Louis’ palm.

Harry let go of Louis, using his now free hand to pull off rest of the rings. One by one he carefully dropped them on Louis’ open palm. Except the blood red ruby. That one he kept, bold and striking, wrapped around his middle finger. 

“Do you like them?” Harry asked, dimples appearing dark and deep in the shadows casted by the low hanging sun. 

Louis peeked up at him, finally relaxing when he was met with the gentle familiarity. 

He slipped the rings on then- all seven of them- and chuckled as they clinked together. The ones with heavier stones rotated right around, facing the ground; loose on Louis’ slimmer fingers.  

“I like them,” Louis grinned. 

He waggled his fingers at Harry, who ignored the clinking and mistreatment of his adornments in favour of catching Louis’ hand, and then pressed his lips against the back of it. 

“Good,” Harry said casually, as if he hadn’t just pulled a Disney-prince. “I like you.” 

Yeah… Louis was pretty sure that what he was feeling was already way more than that. 

*

It didn’t take long for the weather to turn into the complete opposite of what it had been. It wasn’t all that surprising, though, the continuous bright days and warmth were somewhat of an oddity in the western islands. Usually, if it wasn’t raining, it was windy, and if it wasn’t windy, there were icicles flying down sideways. There had been some rainy days but nothing major. 

Everyone had enjoyed the miraculous edge of the heatwave reaching them, but the nature seemed to exhale in relaxation when the proper rain came. 

And then the wind. 

And the sleet.

After a few days of the usual Barra rain, the small radio, crackling in the corner of Granny’s kitchen, started to become more insistent about a summer storm picking up.

Storms weren't that unusual during Louis’ visits, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed them. Well. He had, actually, in the past but… 

Who would’ve known how grumpy a person could get after just having gotten used to having a certain cherub-faced idiot around, and then a fucking _storm_ came? 

Harry had just gotten so good at sneaking into and around at Granny’s too, and now no one in their right mind would go outside, if they absolutely didn’t have to. 

In reality, Harry was horrible at sneaking about, of course. He kept knocking into things, clearly not realising that there usually were such things as ceiling lamps, or bookshelves, in people’s homes. He had to touch absolutely everything, too. Even the tiny, faded, kilt clad figures hidden into the last corner of Louis’ room’ shelves. 

 _Especially_ the tiny, faded, kilt clad figures. 

Louis was getting annoyed with himself, slowly but surely. The way he wasn’t able to _not_ get bothered by the fact that he actually was affected by not seeing Harry for a few days, was infuriating. It was stupid, and very unlike Louis.     

If Granny had noticed something going on with him, she wasn’t mentioning it. Although, the knowing looks Louis was receiving were pretty self-explanatory.

If sulking after Harry, and then sulking because he noticed himself sulking, wasn’t enough, Louis was also feeling increasingly bad for not spending as much time with Granny as he usually would. 

It was just so- _frustrating_ for him. Louis had never pegged himself to be the type to get so lost into a thing with a boy. 

Louis wasn’t sure how to feel. How to _deal_. 

* 

It was already the fourth day in a row Louis decided against heading out. 

Granny and him had been playing cards the whole afternoon, candles and a battery powered lamp lined up in the middle of kitchen table to brighten the dim room. The blackout had been holding the whole day. 

The rain was really coming down now, the small window at the end of the table almost opaque with the rivulets rushing down its surface. The wind was so harsh it felt like the thin glass might crash in from the press of it any second.   

There was no way Harry would be out in that weather. 

Louis felt a bit silly when he realised he kind of wanted to go check anyway. 

*

A strong gust of wind tried to hold on to the wooden slab of a door, having Louis use his whole body weight as he struggled with it. 

It slammed closed with a bang, finally, cutting off the loud drumming of the rain and the blowing wind outside. Louis tugged the soaked hood down to his nape, and shook water from his hair. He tried to uselessly wipe some of the running droplets from his face with his just as wet sleeve. 

The small store was empty of customers, only the bored looking summer employee was there, playing something on her phone. She was—

“Freya!” Louis called, surprised. The brunette lifted her head, smiling when spotting him. “I didn’t know you worked here.” 

“Hey, Lou,” she waved, dropping her phone on the desk. “Nah, just covering for tonight. Some people went down to check on the boats. I figured this was the more comfortable option, instead of drowning in the rain.”

“Smart,” Louis nodded, saluting her, and got a cheeky grin and a shrug as a reply. 

Before Louis managed to say anything more, or got around starting the hunt for the food he had braved the storm for, the door banged again. 

It was Finlay, almost falling over with the force the wind had sent the door back shut. 

“Bloody demon,” the man was grumbling, as if he didn’t even notice his staggering, or that there was water falling from his shabby tweed bunnet. “The nerve.” 

“Hey, Finnie,” Louis greeted, twisting to face the man.

He paused, slowly looking around, before spotting the source of the greeting.

“Louis, my lad!” Finlay bellowed, momentarily distracted from his cloudy muttering. “Quite the storm picking up, eh?” 

Louis nodded his head, keeping an eye on the man as he swayed slightly on his feet, a pool of rainwater already collecting on the floor. He could hear Freya sigh deeply from behind the counter. 

Finlay didn’t even seem freshly drunk, but he was clearly unfocused. Chucking alcohol for a decade or two kind of did that, unfortunately.

“I suppose,” Louis said, shrugging, “Might pass us, too. The forecast’s been changing a lot.” 

“ _The forecast_ ,” Finlay scoffed distastefully, “Can’t trust those bloody things on telly anymore. Gone to the dogs, the whole lot.” 

Louis changed an amused glance with Freya, who just rolled her eyes before turning back to her phone. Finlay patted Louis’ shoulder when he reached him. 

“Tell your gran to tie down the garden tarps, or they’ll be gone by the morning, I tell ya.” 

Louis smiled, “Yeah, will do. She’ll appreciate that.” 

Finlay nodded, looking pleased. It only lasted for a second, though, because quickly something changed in his stance, and his eyes got a wilder glint in them. 

The hold the man had on Louis’ shoulder tightened. 

“Be careful by the water, boy,” he spat out darkly, gaze starting to flitter around the store, as if he believed something to be lurking there. “I saw it again!” Louis couldn’t help his brows from rising, trying not to flinch when Finlay turned sharply to stare him in the eye. “’s gotten _bold!_ Preying right there, out in the open.” 

“Oh-kay,” Louis said, trying to sound soothing, rather than letting his discomfort show. He had always known Finlay was a bit much, but this? This was a new low, even for someone like old-Finnie.    

“We oughta do something before it lures someone in again!” the man snarled lowly, jaws clenching as he grit his teeth together. His fingers dug into Louis’ shoulder, the digits tense and harsh. “ _Filthy beast._ ” 

“Everything alright over there?” a voice cut in, much to Louis’ relief. 

Freya had abandoned her phone in favour of following the peculiar spectacular happening in front of the condom shelf. 

Louis kind of wanted to snort out loud at how odd it must look. He barely held the laugh in, to be honest, the uncomfortable nerves making him giddy.  

The voice seemed to snap some reality back into Finlay’s eyes, causing him to let go of Louis. He seemed distracted again, staring down towards the floor, unfocused and stance unstable.   

“Don’t let it fool ya,” he grumbled lowly, as if in afterthought, “That face… ‘s only sweet ’til it’s got you breathin’ the water.”    

Louis was left blinking after the man, his raincoat’s wetly shining back slowly disappearing behind the only shelf in the kiosk. 

The hum of the water beating against the roof was dull, and the harsh wind managed to slightly waver the small building. Louis brows were pressed together, head tilted in thought.  

“You okay, Lou?” Freya asked from across the isle, voice soft but curious. 

Louis started, shaking his head before turning to meet her eyes. 

“Yeah, I…” _am clearly an idiot_ , “I think I need to go check something?” 

The hood of his sweatshirt was cold and just as wet as it had been outside, but Louis pulled it over his head, turning back towards the door.

Freya sounded confused, “What?” 

Louis just lifted a hand into a half arsed wave, mind racing with concerned, made-up scenarios. 

“Be careful!” Freya called after him, leaning over the counter when Louis was already halfway out the door, “Text me later!” 

He would, Louis was sure, after he had managed to strangle his stupid imagination back under control. 

The wind was merciless when he tried to stay upright on the steep hillside. The pouring rain had turned the ground into a mess of mud, pools, and slippery rock, invisible under the weighted down grass. 

The roar of the sea was overwhelming as its own, but accompanied with the cacophony of the raging storm in the air, it was almost too much. Louis could barely see where he was going, his thoughts a muddled chaos of worry, and disbelief of his own stupidity.

“This is how the first idiot gets killed in movies,” he gritted to himself, teeth clattering from the cold just as he slid down to the bottom of the hill, somehow magically managing to stay upright. 

The rocky shore was more water than stone, the deafening waves crashing against it pushing more and more of it onto the land. 

Louis didn’t really pay attention to that, he was too busy mapping the familiar spot with anxious eyes. 

His knuckles were white with the way he was holding onto the sides of his jacket, arms crossed and fists pressing against his underarms. Louis wasn’t idiotic enough to steer too far away from the rising hillside, instead walking along it, his rubber soled wellies causing him to slip more often than not. 

It was hard to see anything with the spraying water, and Louis was cursing Finlay, and then himself. The raging storm was perfectly reflecting the inside of his head.

This was so dangerous. 

What had he been _thinking_? What kind of idiot would go to the cliffs and near the shoreline in a storm like this? Louis couldn’t believe he had— 

Louis couldn’t believe what he was seeing, _when he spotted him_.

Louis stilled, the chill of the air curling freezingly inside his lungs. 

Harry wasn't facing Louis, not quite, and for a sickening second Louis thought… 

There were tight rivers of water running down Harry’s cheeks, from the sea or from the rain, Louis couldn't tell. It was all mess of spraying water and icy wind. He didn't seem cold though, the pale expanse of his back relaxed as he finally moved; raking his ring decorated fingers through the soft and sodden wet grass of the bank. 

Louis licked the pooling droplets from his lips, heart pounding.   

Harry didn't seem bothered by the storming rain, his soft smile was calm and content, as if the waves weren’t trying to pull him in. His curls were trying to coil into ringlets as the wind blowed through them, even though the weight of the water was pulling at the strands, straightening them. 

The sea was milling aggressively behind him, foaming, and the waves were lifting up high before crashing back down. The mix of wind and water was so loud it was hurting Louis’ ears, and in the middle of it, Harry looked almost unnaturally serene.    

Louis stared, shivering. 

His jacket was soaked, the fabric cold and heavy against his wrists where the long sleeved hoodie didn't reach to cover his skin. His jeans were muddied from the knees and his left thigh, from where he had fallen over while trying to climb up the slippery hill. His palms were dirtied too, and so was probably his face. It was freezing and the sea was raging, and this boy... _This fucking boy_. 

"Have you lost your bloody mind!?" Louis cried out over the whipping wind, voice raising out of fright, having it carry through the crashing of the waves. 

Harry's head snapped up. 

And he _beamed_. "Lou!" 

"No," Louis gritted, firmly. 

He had to stay firm, no matter how lost and confused Harry ended up looking, as the smile slipped from his face as if the rain had melted it off. 

"No?" Harry questioned softly, carefully. It wasn’t audible over the storm but the shape of the word was visible enough on his lips. He was watching Louis to slip and slide closer to the edge of the bank, his curls getting stuck to his cheeks as a taller wave fell and licked down his back. His _bare_ back. 

"No," Louis repeated, wellies sliding over the mud and sand and green grass, unbalancing him. He didn't care this time, when he ended up on his arse, the dirt and water mercilessly soaking through his jeans. "Are you actually dumb, Harry? What the hell are you playing!?”

Harry looked surprised at Louis’ sharp exclamation, eyes wide and confused. The wind was freezing and it was throwing the rain on them sideways, adding to the sprays of seawater flying in the air. The crashing of the waves against the shore was violent, foam collecting thickly into floats all around them. 

"I'm not _playing_ —?” Harry started unsurely, fingers fisting around handfuls of grass, and he hauled his body fully up from the water and onto the bank. The idiot was just as naked as always, and he had pulled up onto a spot that was more rough stone than protective blades of grass. 

Louis could feel his lips tightening.

"You absolute idiot," he scolded angrily, perplexed, and frustrated too. It really wasn’t a time for one of Harry’s stupid word games. _Any_ of his games. 

Louis ended up running a harsh palm over his own temple, trying to get some of the building hot feelings to dissolve. He probably just managed to smear more dirt on his face while doing it. Louis pushed his dripping fringe back with the same shaking hand. "What the hell, Harry? This is so dangerous!" 

Harry was blinking quietly back up at him, clearly unsure of how to approach Louis when he was like this. And Louis knew he wasn't the easiest to deal with when he felt like spitting some fire, but he didn't think _he_ needed to be dealt with right then. What needed to be dealt with was this moron. 

"Are you trying to get killed? You can't be here in this weather! What if you had gotten pulled under and couldn't get back to the surface? Or the waves knocked you into the rocks!?" Louis was working himself up, he was aware of it, but he couldn't help it, either. Harry was just staring at him, quietly and somehow amazed. 

Louis clenched his teeth together, stormy eyes locking with Harry’s lost ones.

"You're such an arsehole!” he decided harshly, when Harry didn’t utter a word. The whole confused and kind of abused expression lingering on his face had Louis seething. "Why do I even bother?” 

With a riled up huff he grabbed Harry by the back of his neck, fingers twisting into the wet strands, and with one sharp and impatient look let him know that he’d better get up before Louis got him up. 

Harry scrambled to his feet, shoulders hunched and feet pointing slightly inwards when he got upright. He was clearly trying to sink to himself, allowing Louis to relax his arm instead of having to reach up as high.

The docility of him had quite the opposite reaction on Louis than Harry had probably expected. It just added to the irked frustration burning along Louis’ arms and neck, making him grit his teeth. 

Harry wasn’t acting meek because he realised he had been a reckless idiot. No. He was trying to _soothe_ Louis, trying to do the right thing to get him to calm down. 

Well, tough fucking luck.        

“Let’s go,” Louis snapped, rain blurring his vision, even with the hasty attempts of wiping his face. Harry looked miserable, eyes on the ground, and shoulders staying curled in. 

Louis shrugged his coat off and then the hoodie underneath, instantly feeling the ice of the wind through the flimsy t-shirt he was left with. 

He tied the hoodie around Harry’s hips, lips thin and jaws clenching, still not being able believe the fucking idiot. Harry let Louis do as he pleased, hands hanging uselessly by his sides while Louis tied the damp fabric. 

He thrust the jacket in Harry’s arms when he deemed the hoodie-kilt to be covering enough. “Put it on.” 

Louis didn’t stay to check if he did so, just turning around instead, and headed back towards the road. 

It went without saying that the journey back to Granny’s was tense, and fucking miserable. 

The rain didn’t stop even for a second, quite the opposite. The wind was cruel, and Louis was sure he would never feel warm again. His t-shirt was doing absolutely fuck all to protect him from the storming weather, his stiff lips turning blue with the cold. 

Louis knew Harry was lingering near him, only one step behind, and wanting to reach out. He could feel it. 

Louis kept his arms crossed though, violent trembles rocking through his body, head down against the rain. He was so angry, still. Even after the twenty minutes they had spent walking in silence.

Louis was aware by now that at least half of his harsh reaction had been due to the fact that for a second he had been scared senseless. Devastated. 

Harry had looked _lifeless_. 

The familiar car wasn’t at the front when they finally reached the house after what felt like forever. Louis’ steps faltered for a short second, his brows furrowing in confusion and slight worry. Granny didn’t usually do spontaneous trips. 

The first thing Louis noticed after walking inside, was a note on the kitchen table. 

 _Lou-Lad, I’m helping securing the boats. Back by 7, or I’ll stay the night at the Morrison’s. Message me when you get home so I’ll know you’re not stuck in the storm. There’s more food in the fridge now, the ration-boys dropped it._  

 _Granny xx_  

The boys most likely meant the police, or volunteers, that helped people when the weather turned chaotic like this. Louis was cold enough not to even get annoyed by the fact that he had left the house for no reason. 

 _Almost_ no reason. 

Louis forced himself to stay calm, focusing on pulling out his phone, instead. 

The screen was wet but luckily it didn’t seem like the water had gotten in. With a trembling sigh Louis punched in a short message, copying it, and posting it on multiple conversations. He didn't stay to wait on replies, turning the screen off, and chucked the phone on the side table of the kitchen. 

Harry was leaning against the frame of the door, one bare, dirtied foot curled over the other. He was looking down, Louis’ jacket a bit too short from the sleeves for him, the fabric across his shoulders pulling taught. He looked idiotic with the makeshift hoodie-cover.

Good to know the looks matched the insides, then. 

“ _What the fuck_ , Harry?” Louis asked, voice heavy. He tried so damn hard to stay calm, but he couldn't help his arms from flying up to the sides in perplexed frustration. 

Harry flinched, shoulders jumping up, and chin ducking further down. He stayed quiet, and Louis really had to bite down on his tongue.  

“I couldn’t find you. Thought I was completely bonkers to even—” Louis hissed out a breath from between his gritting teeth. “And then you _were_ there, _in_ the water!” 

Harry peeked up, eyes wide and water dripping from his dark lashes. Their eyes met for a short moment, finally. Louis’ chest burned with it, even though his whole body felt like ice.   

“I thought you were- That you had…” he didn’t even want to say it. Couldn’t say it. The short moment he had thought it had been true, had been… 

Louis body shook with a violent tremble, his skin hurting from the cold that felt like had reached his very core. He had to squeeze his eyes closed to try and lose the mental image. 

“Nothing was going to happen, Lou,” Harry insisted then, almost too quietly for him to hear.

When Louis lifted his gaze, Harry was almost too close. The green eyes were sad and nervous as he wrapped his fingers around Louis’ wrists, “I know there’s a storm, but why are you… You’re making such a big deal out of this?” 

Louis blinked, disbelief stuttering at the foremost of his mind. 

“Such a big—!?” Louis tried to tug his wrists out of Harry’s hold, not succeeding. He glared with flaming hot agitation in his eyes. Louis was so upset, suddenly. Even more than he had been in the first place, by the storming sea. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Not a big deal!? You fucking idiotic, reckless piece of—”   

“Louis, please,” Harry called out softly, expression hurt as his chin tilted down, as if hiding from the harsh tone of his voice. “Don’t be mad. I don’t… It alright. You don’t have to be angry—”

“Of course I have to be fucking angry! I’m in love with you and I thought you were—” 

Right. 

That’s… He wasn’t supposed to say it- like _that_. 

All the fight drained from Louis with that little mess-up. His energy deflated, weariness filling his lungs. 

Louis hiccuped, the heels of his shaky palms pressing tightly against his eyes. He felt like a total idiot, and he bit harshly down on his bottom lip when Harry’s hold around his wrists tightened. 

“You—” Harry started, voice so soft it had something nasty shivering up Louis’ back. 

“ _Gosh_ , this is—!” Louis hissed out, trying to pull away again, stepping back. Harry just moved with him, crowding closer. “I’m sorry. This is _stupid_ , I didn’t… I’m sorry I got so- I… I don’t know. Sorry. I’m sorry.” 

When Harry suddenly did let go of Louis’ wrists, it caused a heavy wave of remorse to foam inside his chest. 

He had really done it, now. Louis was still upset, but he also knew he’d been so out of line with his angry words. He shouldn’t have yelled. He... But he had been so scared, so fucking scared, and Harry seemed completely aloof. 

And the way he had gone and spit out his stupid _feelings_... Way too soon, and way too aggressively… 

When Louis looked up, ready to apologise for as many times as it was needed, Harry grabbed his face in between his cold hands, and smashed their mouths together. 

It took a second for Louis to catch on with what was happening, a strong arm looping behind his back, pulling him in. The jacket Harry still had on was dripping wet and uncomfortable against Louis’ only somewhat drying skin. It didn’t stop him from wrapping his fingers around Harry’s biceps though, tightly holding on. 

He leaned in, Harry letting a soft noise from the back of his throat. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he muttered quietly, their lips just barely apart. Louis could feel Harry’s damp hair on his own forehead, their breaths mixing. 

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Louis whispered back just as weakly. They were silent for a short moment. 

Louis closed his eyes when Harry nuzzled even closer, the tip of his nose cold against Louis’ cheek. “I’m sorry that I got so upset. And that I didn’t listen when you tried to explain, and that I was mean, and stupid enough to—” 

Harry silenced his tumbling words with another kiss. And then kept him quiet with another. And another. And another. 

“I’m just glad you care, Lou,” Harry admitted softly, something very vulnerable in his voice and in the way his shoulders were curving in, pressing into Louis’.

Louis wrapped his arms behind Harry’s neck, clinging on. 

When they were cuddled in bed later that night, Harry’s heavy weight pressing Louis against the mattress, they didn’t talk of the incident any more. 

Louis knew they would, at one point or another, but they’d just gotten rid of the negative tension, and neither of them wanted to bring it back. It lingered there, at the edge of Louis’ mind, humming along the cacophony of the rain and the wind beating against windows and down on the roof.   

Granny had answered to Louis’ text around nine, letting him know she’d stay with Ms. Morrison, after all. The main road had been cut off; some fallen trees having blocked it, causing all the rainwater to pool out into a deep mini-lake all over it. 

Louis had texted Freya, too, and then the others. Only properly relaxing when all of them had cleared for being alright, and indoors, somewhere. Mungo had sent a picture of himself playing poker with the grannies, Louis’ and his own; Ms. Morrison. Captioned: “ _Tis_ _Wild.”_    

“Are you still cold?” Harry asked, tugging at the blanket so it was almost over his head. His bare shoulders were warm against Louis’, and so was his back, under his palms. 

“Not really,” Louis hummed, face contently nuzzled into the curve of Harry’s neck, fingertips pressing in the toned dip of his spine. “Are you?” 

“No,” Harry answered, from where he was kissing the line of Louis’ jaw, “Well, my toes, a bit.” 

“Too bad,” Louis muttered, tilting his head back when Harry pressed his teeth against his throat. “You’re not bringing those ice cubes near me.” 

Louis did shuffle their legs tighter together, though, trapping them better underneath the duvet. It was quite toasty, and Louis was feeling drowsy after the shower, and after the rush of adrenalin that had kept him going in the rain had faded. 

Being scared to death, only to be filled with relief a moment later, was apparently very taxing. 

Harry was letting out little pleased snuffling noises against Louis’ neck, leaning in to trap him down to the bed even more snugly. It was something Louis had noticed Harry liked to do; use his slightly bigger frame to hold Louis in place, while he himself had the freedom to explore the trapped body. With his mouth, usually. 

“Can I touch you, Lou?” Harry asked then, breath hot against Louis’ cheek, and fingers spreading over Louis’ ribs underneath his sleep shirt. 

“You already are.” 

Louis squirmed when Harry let his blunt nails press slightly into the soft skin of his sides. 

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry grumbled, nosing his way to kiss along Louis’ temple, and then back down to press their lips together. “Can I?” 

Louis didn’t answer, he just lifted one arm from Harry’s back to loop it behind his neck, deepening the kiss. 

Harry tilted his head to the side amenably, tongue insistent as it pressed hotly against Louis’ bottom lip. It caused a soft noise to escape from the back of Louis’ mouth, the kiss muffling the sound. 

“Okay,” Louis agreed breathlessly, when he finally had to turn his head for air. It could’ve been hours later, for all Louis knew. “Yeah, alright.” 

“Thank you,” Harry sighed, and Louis would’ve chuckled if there hadn’t already been a hot mouth against his own again. 

Louis breath stuttered when Harry’s fingers pressed inside him, sometime later, messy with the lube Louis had brought along from England. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the stretching sensation by any means, although he usually preferred it to be the other way around. Harry’s fingers were skilled though, long and unyielding, as he worked Louis into a shaky, panting mess. 

There was one hand holding him down, pressing against his pec with fingertips digging into the muscle just slightly. Louis gasped out a whine, the feeling of Harry inside him almost too overwhelming, especially after everything they had gone through that day. 

 _Gosh_ , he had told Harry _he loved him_ … 

“Alright, Lou?” Harry asked then, so softly, nudging Louis’ cheek with the bridge of his nose, “You’re all quiet.” 

He was. _He was_ all quiet. Usually he didn’t know how to shut his damn mouth. Louis didn’t know what to say, too busy _feeling_. 

And it was just starting to feel good, too, a sheen of sweat collecting between their pressed together bellies. Louis’ heart was bounding, and he could feel Harry’s do the same right against his own.    

“Uh-huh,” was all he managed to breathe out, while working his hips down, thighs quivering when Harry’s fingers twisted, and hit just _right._  

Swallowing hard Louis brought one knee up, giving Harry something proper to rut against. Dark curls were tickling Louis neck and chest when bruises were bitten into his skin, and Louis’ couldn’t help but tug at the roots of them.

His other hand had pushed downwards on Harry’s back to palm his cheeks, fingertips curiously dipping in between the curve of them. 

“I don’t know what you think you're doing back there,” Harry said, slight whimper accompanying his words, and teeth unforgiving on the underside of Louis’ jaw, then on his collarbones, “but if you don’t stop, I’ll be out a bit sooner than either of us want.” 

He probably wasn’t kidding; hips already pressing hard against the side of Louis’, his breath rapid where it was puffing on Louis’ bruise-kissed sternum. 

“That’s alright, love,” Louis gasped, somehow managing organise his head enough to get something sensible out. “N-no shame in— _ah! —_ losing.” 

Louis knees tried to press closed, toes curling and back arching, when Harry crooked his fingers up in nonverbal revenge. 

“I’m not the one losing it here,” Harry boasted breathlessly, eyes dark and hair starting to stick to his temples, as he leaned back enough to meet Louis’ gaze. “More fingers?” 

Louis shook his head, relaxing his arms enough to let Harry pull back to reach the condom. He might come to regret that decision the next day, but for now he was all too ready.   

He tried to relax when Harry finally pressed in, the width of his cock pushing out hurt little sounds from the back of Louis’ throat, even as Harry kissed some of them away. It didn’t help much, and not at all after Harry had to bury his own face in Louis’ chest, biting down on his skin while breathing hard. 

Louis couldn’t help his back from arching when Harry bottomed out. 

He was tense and panting, nails pressing into Harry’s back. Luckily his head was still functioning enough not to let them drag or hurt the pale skin too much. 

“Kiss?” Harry requested quietly and out of breath, abandoning the spot he had left his teethmarks in. He held their hips infuriatingly still, pressing down on Louis with his body, and one hand wrapped over his waist. 

Louis squirmed but lifted his head demandingly, fingers rising up to tangle in Harry’s nape. He tried to hook a leg over Harry’s back, but couldn’t hold it, which caused him to growl his impatient annoyance into the wet kiss.    

Harry patted his thigh, then, prompting him to lift it up, and then sneaked an arm under it. 

“Better?” he asked, dipping his head to lick over Louis’ bottom lip, before experimentally rutting forward.

“ _A-ah,_ yes _!_ Better,” Louis hiccuped his answer, fingers tensing and chest pushing up as Harry’s moves quickly turned more purposeful. 

He was pretty sure his collarbones and the base of his neck were littered in dark bite marks with the treatment his skin was getting. Harry even bowed his back enough to reach and bite right over Louis’ nipple, forcing him to breathe out a tense whimper.

“Harry,” Louis complained thinly, voice high-strung, before the sucking hold released. It only moved to the other side. 

Harry snapped his hips forward, Louis’ meeting the pace just a few moments later. The biting kiss against his chest didn't cease, and Louis ended up tugging on Harry’s hair more forcefully.

He was stuck there, for a bit, between the press of Harry’s heavy body, his biting hold, and the powerful thrusts of his hips. Louis had tried to not let his nails press in, but with a stuttering gasp he did just that. 

Harry was hitting something good, nice and deep, not pausing to let Louis breathe. His urgent movements were driving them up the bed, the sheets just a mess underneath them. With one hand Harry reached to grab Louis’ wrist, tugging it away from his own neck, and pushed his hand down in between their heated bodies. 

With a soft, pleased noise Louis curled his fingers around the base of his aching cock, almost having forgotten that was a thing he could do. He squirmed, shifting his hips, another hand still pulling on Harry’s hair while the other started to work over the straining length. 

He couldn’t stop a whine when Harry rutted in, then stayed there, just when he had cupped a palm over the drooling, overly sensitive head. 

“Am I still losing?” Harry panted, grinning down at him while circling his hips, pressing in deep. His chest was shiny and heaving. Louis wanted to lick it. 

In the end he couldn’t decide between glaring, licking, and laughing, so he ended up somewhere between all of them.    

“Of course,” he insisted, words weak and breaking, just as out of breath as Harry was. He did offer his mouth up though, silently demanding for a kiss in peace offering. 

Harry was sappy enough to fall for it. 

It didn’t take much longer for the heat to start boiling over somewhere in the bottom of Louis’ belly, and Harry’s thrusts were losing their rhythm.

They paused completely for a second, chests rising and falling against each other’s as they kissed. Harry knocked Louis’ barely moving hand out from between their bellies, after a while, and squeezed his own fist around him.

“Fuck— _shit_!” Louis gritted out, suddenly not knowing if he should grind down on Harry’s cock or work his own up into the tightness of that heat. Harry chuckled a breathless laugh against Louis’ open, slack mouth.

“Rude,” he chastised, driving it in by rutting up again. Louis eyes squeezed shut involuntarily, the leg hanging over the crook of Harry’s arm kicking out. 

If Louis had had any plans of snipping something snarky back, those thoughts died when Harry pressed the side of his thumb into Louis’ slit. 

His back tensed, useless fingers by his side grabbing for the sheets, and the back of his head pressing against the mattress. 

The release washed over him almost like it was ripped form of him, his jaws tensing around a silent moan.                 

It only took Harry a short moment to follow then, his stuttering gasp a lot louder against Louis’ cheek. His hips pushed against Louis’, nudging them both up the bed for a few more inches, before he stilled, forehead resting on Louis’ cheekbone. 

“ _Diathan_ ,” Harry gasped out thickly, breath stuttering harshly, before one of his hands circled around Louis’ upper arm, just holding on to it. 

Louis was blinking out the tears the white hot pleasure had brought to his eyes, and jerkingly wrapped his heavy arms around the heaving shoulders pressing him down.   

Harry kissed up his neck and jaw, touches gentle as they reached the soft skin by Louis’ temples, under his eyes, his brow... He was still blanketing Louis with his body, safe and secure, even though it was way too hot and messy for that now. 

Louis barely noticed, already tipping over the edge of sleep.     

* 

Early in the next morning, Harry was still clearly delusional with the obviously one off way he had managed to render Louis speechless, and unconscious, the previous night. 

He was way more pushy than usual; daring with the way he let his groping palms travel all over Louis’ body. He was handsy, always, but the _way_ he expected Louis to go where Harry led him, was new. 

Louis let him have it, just leaning back to watch where it would lead to, slightly amused and a lot fond. 

It was cute, really. Harry was so sweet and gentle, all the time, going where Louis wanted him, easily folding under his ministrations. Dimpling smiles and content fairy-pool eyes were the only thing Louis was met with, usually. So, he didn’t mind that Harry was trying to push _him_ about a bit instead, just this once.

Especially because he wasn’t too good at it. 

“Finlay seems to have something against you?” Louis remembered, after they had already managed to shower and towel dry their hair. He yawned right after, lazing on the freshly made bed. 

Harry, who was draping the damp towels onto the hooks on Louis’ room’s closed door, turned. “The loud old man? Grey hair, and walks like some odd, wobbly duck?” 

Harry demonstrated something strange to go with the description, swaying his torso and nodding his head, eyes drooping. Louis bit down on his tongue. 

Sure, that was Finnie enough. 

“Sure,” was what Louis answered after a stretching pause, too, having rather enjoyed Harry’s performance. An absolute _dork,_ honestly. 

“I think I scared him once, long time ago,” Harry said, straightening up. He fixed the other towel, before looking towards the ceiling thoughtfully, fingers rising to tug on his bottom lip. “I didn’t notice he was there… He was just a scrawny lad, then.” 

Louis carefully decided to ignore the last bit, storing it away to be confused over later. That pile was just growing and growing, unfortunately starting to be a bit too much to avoid for much longer. Especially with all the little details from the previous day adding onto it. 

“Well, who wouldn’t be scared if you showed up out of nowhere, flashing your tits and junk all over the place, like usual,” Louis smirked, leaning back to rest on the bed, arms folding behind his head. He pushed all and any worrying, wandering thoughts somewhere deep down for later. “Shameless nudist.” 

“I didn’t!” Harry insisted, eyes snapping down to glare at Louis. He was pouting, although it didn’t manage to mask the way his eyes still lingered on Louis’ laid out body. “I wasn’t naked, I was in the water!” 

“Right. Somehow, I don’t think that counts, love,” Louis snorted, rolling his eyes. Harry pouted harder. “Finlay probably _really_ appreciated how clear the water is, though.”   

Harry growled, not allowing Louis any time to prepare, before he was already pouncing. See? So _pushy_. 

“No!” Louis cackled, trying to curl up while the gangly, heavy mess floundered on top of him.   

“You didn’t get scared when I ‘ _flashed my tits and junk_ ’ at _you_!” Harry grunted, digging his fingers into Louis’ ribs. “So who’s the weird one now?” 

“You are!” Louis giggled breathlessly, face turning redder as he squirmed under the assault. 

They wrestled for a good while, one of Louis’ pillows ending up on the floor, and a rogue arm almost knocking over everything from on top of the nightstand.     

Somehow, already getting out of breath, Louis managed to hook his legs around Harry’s waist. He pushed up from the mattress, and by some miraculous luck, ended on top. 

“Ha!” Louis panted triumphally, quickly catching Harry’s wrists into a tight hold before they sneaked to abuse his sides again. 

With a smug smile he sat perched on top of the flushed boy, both of them breathing hard, drying hair a complete mess. 

“You cheated,” Harry announced, between one heavy breath and another, and then tried to fidget free once more. 

Louis pressed his whole weight down on him, locking the captive wrists against Harry’s own chest. 

“I don’t think so,” Louis sneered, squeezing Harry’s sides with his knees in case he would try something futile again. He looked pretty defeated now though; bottom lip pouting out again and messed up curls falling over his eyes.  

“Fine,” Harry huffed grudgingly, scowling up at him. 

“Fine,” Louis chirped back, grin widening. “Where’s my prize, then?”

“What?” Harry paused to utter, pout giving way to the confused ‘O’ forming onto his pillowy lips. “I didn’t know there was a prize! I wouldn’t have let you win if I had known!” 

“Oi!” Louis scoffed, squeezing Harry’s wrists shortly in reprimand. What a sore loser, “I won, fair and square.” 

“I don’t care,” Harry said shaking his head, and squinted at him, “What’s the prize?” 

Louis stilled, kind of speechless as he tilted his head curiously. 

He studied the wound up, shower fresh but already getting sweaty boy underneath him, their eyes meeting and quickly locking into an intense stare-down. Harry looked as serious as ever, apparently ready for a round two, if the prize would turn out to be something worth the exertion.   

There hadn’t been any prize, _obviously_. 

Was this boy for real? 

“You’re so strange, Harry,” Louis sighed fondly in the end, the anticipatory silence having stretched on for long enough. Chuckling he let go of the captive wrists, and instead leaned up to push the ringlets off of Harry’s forehead. 

Harry looked bewildered. 

“So, I- win?” he asked confusedly, brows furrowing as he lifted his suddenly freed arms, hands right away curling around Louis’ hips, tugging him in. 

Louis laughed, “No. _I_ won.” He leaned close enough to rub their noses together, fingertips tangling into the curls on both sides of Harry’s face. “But you can have the prize, anyways. I’m nice like that.” 

The green eyes peered at him suspiciously for a moment, almost crossing from the closeness, before he seemed to come into some sort of a conclusion.

Harry nodded then, all businesslike, and relaxed his shoulders into the messed up bed. 

“Alright,” he said, expectantly. “Where is it?”

Louis grinned smugly at him, leaning back a little to make sure the boy saw the mischief in his eyes. Harry just lifted an eyebrow. 

“Close your eyes,” Louis prompted, holding back a smirk as he unashamedly went for the cliché. If this dumbarse was dumb enough not to know what the prize for winning a wrestling match against their- whatever Louis was to Harry- was, he probably wouldn’t recognise the predictability of this. 

“If you tickle me I’ll—” Harry started to talk big, chin lifting and all, but Louis cut him off. 

“Just do it, Harry,” Louis laughed shaking his head, and watched with fond amusement as the boy cautiously did as requested. 

Louis shamelessly stole a short moment to just admire the beauty of his features, then. His tummy flipped with the sudden warmth gathering into his chest, and he didn’t even dare to investigate how deep that warmth already went. 

Harry was gorgeous, and so, so sweet. Even when he was huffing in annoyance for having to wait for some silly reward. Louis had to bite down on his lip to contain the sappy, embarrassingly adoring smile. 

“You ready?” he asked, settling more comfortably on Harry’s chest, preparing to spend some time there. 

“Well, I’m not the one dawdli—” 

Louis leaned in, cutting Harry’s grumbling off with soft lips, and caught the rest of the impatient words on his tongue.        

* 

Louis plopped a jumper and a pair of joggers in Harry’s lap with more vigour than what was necessarily needed. 

Well, to be honest, it _was_ needed. After Louis had had to trek up the hill and down to the shore to their usual meeting spot, it was only to find out that Harry had decided to camp out on the white sanded part of the shore, ten minutes away. 

So, clothes-smack it was. 

“But no,” Harry whined immediately, turning his pleading eyes to Louis, bottom lip pushing out. 

“But yes,” Louis countered as he sat down. Sure, he knew now that Harry actually owned some decent clothes, but that didn’t mean the boy would willingly wear them. Louis leaned in to press his lips against Harry’s chilly shoulder, meaning it as his actual, proper greeting. “Granny’s visiting a friend and it’s supposed to rain later today.” 

“I have to wear clothes because your Granny is visiting a friend?” Harry moaned, picking at the thin material of the softest t-shirt Louis had managed to find. 

Louis sighed, trying really hard not to roll his eyes. Harry would have to just suck it up. 

“No,” he said instead of humouring him, “You have to wear clothes because we’re hanging out at mine today. I’m not sitting here freezing to death again.” 

Harry seemed to really mull it over, for a minute. 

Louis knew he liked it when they spent time at Granny’s—even with all the sneaking around—but he also knew Harry was lazy as hell. 

Apparently it was his laziness that was winning today. 

“Just a little bit longer,” Harry pleaded, clearly being whiny on purpose, and tucked down to rub his curly head against Louis’ chest. 

Louis huffed, amused, and caught the boy into a headlock, before tipping them over, sand sprinkling.   

They tussled for a little, until Louis had Harry give up with a cruel pinch of his nipple.

“Only if you put the clothes on,” he demanded, shaking the sand off the clothes that had been mixed into the beach during their aimless tiff. Harry huffed, but allowed Louis to tug the t-shirt and the white jumper over his head.    

It was soon clear to Louis, that the request for “ _Just a little bit longer_ ” hadn’t been for anything specific. 

 _Typical._  

Harry had been sitting in the same spot on the sand for _forever_ , quietly humming to himself, and pretty much ignoring Louis while having a good time on his own. 

Yeah, ha ha. _No_. 

“Hazza,” Louis enquired, covering his bare feet into the cool sand, his shoes forgotten somewhere where he had chucked them earlier. He wasn’t wearing enough clothes to begin with, but stubbornly refused to shiver. He was whipped, he admitted it, and if Harry wanted to stay for a bit longer, they’d stay. “What’s the deal with your name? Like, really.” 

Harry lifted his gaze from where he had been drawing some squiggly shapes into the sand with his fingers. _Celtic knots_ , like the ones on some of his rings. 

“Don’t you like ‘ _Harry_ ’?” he asked, shifting to sit cross legged, tugging at the fabric of his joggers distastefully. Louis couldn’t hide his amused, fond smile as he watched the boy huff at the annoying garment.      

“Of course I like it,” he said, shrugging. He wiggled his toes in the sand, watching the little mountain crack and crumble. “But you were so weird about it in the beginning.” 

The fact that Harry didn’t even complain about being called names anymore, told a lot about how much time they’d been spending together over the past weeks. And how much time had actually passed... 

Louis was so carefully avoiding thinking about the nearing dates on his return tickets. 

“Yeah. I guess,” Harry hummed, eyes slowly turning distant as his gaze got stuck somewhere in the horizon. “I never told you about it, did I?” 

“Told me about what?” Louis asked, leaning back, resting his weight on his elbows. He turned to look at Harry again, when there was no reply. “Harry?” 

Harry’s hair was being ruffled by the breeze, and there was something so terribly melancholic and _old_ in his eyes. His gaze stayed locked onto the sea, expression somehow- slack. 

“There’s this little boy I knew once,” he hummed, almost distractedly. “It wasn’t here. I don’t think anyone lived here back then.” 

Louis made a low, non-committal noise from the back of his throat. 

He wasn't sure if he liked where this was going, already, even though it had been him asking about it.

“It was somewhere near Ireland, maybe,” Harry continued softly. He looked thoughtful, clearly drifting somewhere faraway. Louis felt somehow nervous now, settling to stay as quiet and still as he could, not wanting to disturb.

“The ring you have… He gave it to me, actually. 

I’m not sure where he could’ve gotten it. The town he was from was quite poor, not a place for a child to have something that precious. 

I figured that maybe he had found it, but… I never asked. It wasn’t important. 

He gave it to me, clearly not understanding its price, being just a child and all. He said I should have it because the gems looked like the sea, and because I liked the sea even more than he did. And he… Well, he always used to ask about at my rings, and thought his would look nice with the rest of them. 

He was a bright lad, I don’t think he ever told anyone about the time he spent down by the water. People were really suspicious back then, and scared. His people would’ve told him not to wander off so far out without someone looking after him. They probably had already, but the little bugger was too good at sneaking off.”

There was a fond smile lingering on Harry’s face when Louis lifted his gaze from the ring on his hand. He had been absentmindedly touching the thin band after the mention of it, turning it around his finger. 

“We used to play whenever he showed up by the shore. 

He liked collecting different sized pebbles and building towers with them. Or sometimes he just looked for the prettiest ones, always taking them to his mum and sister, after. He got really excited when I dived to get him some from the bottom; he said those were special, and the prettiest.” 

“I, uhm… I usually was able to hear him, whenever he came around, and I looked after him so he wouldn’t be alone near the water. 

But this one time… I guess it was just a very- _unlucky_ day.” 

Harry sighed. Louis wasn’t sure if the boy had blinked even once during the time he had been speaking. The cloudy, light grey sky reflected from his eyes, making the green of them look pale, almost unnaturally so. The colour of them reminded Louis of the very first time they had met. 

Louis’ arms were covered in goosebumps, and not just from the chilly ocean breeze.   

“I think it was his mum… Finally having caught on that her five year old had been sneaking out of the house, when his older siblings were distracted. 

She must’ve startled the little lad, right when he had been looking down to the water from one of these rockier parts of the shore. He was probably looking for me.

I don’t know why he didn’t call out that day, because he usually did. I- I never found out why, and… 

 _Of course_ he fell in. 

I heard that. And I heard his mum yell. It didn’t take me long to figure out what had happened. 

When something goes into the water from the surface, it takes space; the mass of the water pushes outwards to allow it in. It can be felt, the shift in the water… When you know what to look for, at least. 

It wasn’t that hard to find him, even with the heavy current. He was a growing boy, but his clothes weighted him down in the water, making it hard for him to even try to swim. He was just a lad, anyway. 

I had tried to teach him to swim but that takes time, especially for someone so young as him. He didn’t know how to, yet, but I think the little he had learned was what saved him in the end. And… 

I’m fast moving in the water, but if he had inhaled the second he went under…” 

Harry’s brow furrowed, and he looked upset. 

Louis bit down on his bottom lip. The shivers from the cold, and from what he was hearing, were finally getting too strong to ignore.  

“I think his mum thought it was too late, already. She was crying, and screaming; it didn’t take long for others to come see what was happening. 

He wasn’t even that far from the shoreline, but the water there was darker than here, and it was hard to see under the surface from the land. He wasn’t unconscious yet, when I got to him, just trying to kick up from the bottom and against the current. 

I pushed him up… Made sure he was above the surface and getting the water out of his lungs, and then got him to the shore where his mum was. 

She saw me, obviously; I didn’t really think about hiding in that moment. And… Well, I guess they thought I had tried to take him, or something. Pull him under instead of taking him back to the shore…” 

Harry paused, clearing his throat. His voice had gone quiet and his sharp jawline was tensed with the way he was biting his teeth together.   

“They shot fire into the water, somehow. And arrows. Rocks, spears… Everything they could get their hands on. I didn’t stay to look around, I was better off somewhere else. They were better off without me, too. 

I never saw the boy again, but I kept the ring.”   

Louis swallowed, twisting the band around his finger again. It felt wrong to have it, now. 

Harry sighed, finally looking away from the dull, foggy horizon. 

His gaze fell down to where Louis was tracing the blue gems around the ring, a soft, sad smile climbing on the corners of his mouth as he watched.   

“His name was Harry,” he said then, after a short silence, and blinked up at Louis. The look in his eyes was hollow, the paleness of his irises almost haunting. “I thought he was really brave.”         

* 

That was the first time Louis allowed himself to think that maybe Harry really wasn’t quite alright. 

*

When Louis was biking back towards Granny’s later that evening, he was so deep in thought he almost missed his turn. 

The old bike squeaked every time he pedalled, and the black paint, already a few summers old, was chipping off to give way for the stubborn rusting.

He was without Harry. Because… The boy had wanted to be alone, clearly. 

He had gone all quiet, after. And when Louis had nudged him softly to ask if he still wanted to come with, he had just shaken his head, leaned in to kiss the corner of Louis’ mouth, and then turned back to stare at the waves. 

Louis had felt lost, and horrible, for leaving him there. He had never been to Harry’s place--didn’t even know where it was because the boy always insisted that _the whole world was their home_ \--but he wanted to believe it wasn’t far. 

The whole thing was… Whatever. 

Louis had hugged him tight, nuzzling against his dimpless cheek, before trekking back up to his bike.   

He had spent the rest of the day sitting in the corner of the Inn Baz worked in, sipping away stale tea, while refusing to explain his sulking to the other boy. They had lazed around at Baz’s for a bit, after his shift, but Louis knew he hadn’t been great company, quickly opting to head to Granny’s instead.    

Louis was chewing on the inside of his cheek, eyes squinting against the late August wind as he worked the bike onwards. 

He had a shapeless, anxious mass building inside his chest, uncomfortable tingling prickling along his neck from it. He felt clueless, and more than just little helpless. Every time he tried to figure out- _something,_ he ended up feeling conflicted. 

Something was clearly off with Harry, but… How bad was it? 

Of course Louis had noticed it, _of course_. Ever since the beginning. It was too obvious. 

Harry seemed to be doing alright enough, though, looking healthy, and very, _very_ rarely sad. Just a bit confused at times. He was smart, despite that, quickly picking up anything new, and easily keeping up with Louis’ sharp, snappy, and a bit rude wit. He seemed- _normal_. 

Until he didn’t. 

If something _was_ wrong, which… It was looking like something was. Was it Louis’ place to try to do something about it? Did it even need something to be done, if the boy was doing alright, as it was? 

Louis grunted frustratedly as he pedalled up the last little uphill. 

He let the bike roll down to Granny’s yard on it’s own after he’d reached the top, feet hanging on the sides, out of the pedals’ way.    

The lights were on inside, and Louis waved when Granny peeked out the window, having been sitting on the couch in the den. 

He left the bike leaning against the shed’s wall, and crossed the dusty driveway from behind the car. Louis sat down on the doorstep to tug his shoes off, knocking each of them against the floorboards, trying to get some sand out. 

Sighing, he paused to stare at the open, _humbling_ landscape. 

It was silent, even the birds had quieted. The evening breeze was heavy with humidity as the fog thickened over the moors. Louis followed the way the narrow road cut through the greenness, curving like a serpent before disappearing out of sight. He felt so terribly small. 

 _What even was sanity?_       

Louis left his shoes by the door when he finally found the strength to move again, and went inside.   

He hadn’t planned on talking about it, but somehow he ended up spilling the second he saw Granny smile up at him from the couch. 

“Granny,” he started slowly, distractedly raking a hand through his hair. The salt of the sea made it feel rough under his fingers. 

Granny looked back up from her cross-stitch. 

“What would you do if you had a friend, and you knew there was something wrong?” 

“Is it Bazil?” Granny asked, her eyes instantly sharp and attentive as she peered over her glasses. Louis sighed out a heavy breath as he sat down in the armchair, the fire on the fireplace immediately starting to warm him up. “Mungo, then?” 

“No, it’s not them,” Louis muttered, his right hand unconsciously reaching to play with the ring on his left’s finger, the motion having quickly became a habit. 

“Yourself?” Granny asked, softer, but her eyes were narrowing. 

Louis chuckled. Granny was a force not to be reckoned with when she felt she had to protect her grandchildren.

“No, it’s not me either, I’m fine,” Louis reassured with a smile. He twisted to the side on the cushion, and kicked his feet over the armrest. “I just have this friend and…” He sighed again. “He keeps talking about these things I know can’t be true, but I know _he_ believes them.”

Granny furrowed her brows, humming. “You mean… Is he seeing things?” 

Louis chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking, before shaking his head slowly. 

“Not- quite… Well, I don’t think so,” he said carefully, trying to think how to explain what he meant. “He just has these _stories_ … Things that he says have happened to him, or something he has done in the past. But there’s no way…”  

“Sort of like some kind of psychosis? Or hallucinations?” Granny suggested, head tilting, and already sounding invested. Louis really appreciated her in moments like this. 

He considered her words carefully for a second, brows furrowing and lips pursing slightly.   

“I’m not sure,” Louis exhaled then, turning to look into the fire. “He’s talking like he has all these memories, very detailed memories. From, like, hundreds of years ago. And they’re not always particularly _jolly_ , either.” Louis shook his head. “He’s not doing drugs, or anything. I would’ve noticed.” 

“Hm,” Granny hummed, eyes narrowed in thoughtful concentration. They were both quiet for a moment, before she asked, “Is he upset because of them? The memories?” 

“Not really, no,” Louis shook his head again, pretty sure of this one. “Well, if the memory is upsetting, of course then he might be, for a bit. But it’s the same way I, or anyone, would be with bad memories. His just… _His_ doesn’t make any sense?” 

“How do you mean?” Granny asked, and yeah… It was probably a bit hard to understand without having any examples. But. It was confusing enough, even after having heard what Louis had. 

Louis let his cheeks puff out for a second, trying to come up with something that wouldn’t feel too much like breaking Harry’s trust. 

“Okay so, I think… I think he really believes he was born centuries ago? And- and he talks a lot about the water; different seas and lochs, and the way they’ve changed over time.” Louis lifted his arms to rub his eyes, trying to think. “At first I thought he was just being a twit- because he definitely _is_ one. And that maybe… Maybe it was just his nerdy way of throwing in some environmental points, or something?

But now I- I don’t he’s talking about the pollution, or oil spills, or whatnot.

I mean, he does care about those kinds of things, yeah, but I think he believes he’s actually _seen_ the change? He- Like… He talks about Barra _before_ there were any people living here? He’s said something about the plague, and the middle-ages, too. He keeps saying these things about how he was born in the water, and he kind of acts like that, too. And… 

And at first I thought it was just- funny, I guess. Just this quirky thing he had going on, but…” 

Louis shook his head, not sure if he had managed to conclude his thoughts in a way that Granny could ever get what he was trying to say. Hell, even he didn’t know what he was trying to say. 

“I don’t know. I know it sounds…” Louis sighed, trailing off. Stupid? Silly? Weird? He didn’t want to use any of those words to describe Harry. “I guess it could be funny, if this wasn’t for real…” 

“Oh, Lou,” Granny said softly, the corners of her mouth pulling down in sympathy, when Louis quieted. She reached a hand out, beckoning, “Come here, sweets.”

Louis got up from the armchair, feeling relieved after getting some of it out of his chest. He still pouted exaggeratedly as he snuggled into Granny’s side. 

It felt good to pretend that she was the strongest force in the world, just like he had believed as a kid. Even if it was just for a moment.    

“Our minds are odd things,” Granny hummed, squeezing Louis’ thigh reassuringly, “and the illnesses there are the hardest sort to deal with.” 

Louis sighed, tasting defeat on his tongue. She was right, of course. 

“Just keep being there- being his friend,” Granny proposed softly, pushing Louis’ messy fringe up for him. “Company is one of the most underrated medicines, I think. And if your friend isn’t sad, like you said, or too bothered by it, then…”

Louis nodded as she trailed off. “Yeah, I… He’s not depressed, I don’t think. Maybe. Although, I’m not sure how to tell, if someone is.” 

“You aren't a doctor, love,” Granny said with a soft smile, nudging Louis to get him to smile too. “Just keep an eye on him, hm? And maybe bring him around sometime. You know I love meeting your friends.”

“Yeah,” Louis said, and then again, more decidedly, “Yeah. I think he’d really like to meet you, too.”

Granny’s eyes crinkled with a pleased, sunny smile taking over her features, and Louis couldn’t stop his own lips from curving up as well.   

“Can’t wait to meet him, then,” she nodded, and Louis could already see how she was building a mental baking plan inside her mind. “Although,” she added then, voice lowering to a whisper, her tone causing Louis to still. 

“What?” he asked, brows furrowing. 

“To be honest… This friend of yours?” she paused, dramatically, instantly clueing Louis in that this wasn’t all that serious. “He sounds like a _Selkie_ to me.” 

Granny hummed pointedly, eyes widening. 

“Har— My friend says weird stuff, and your conclusion is that he’s a _seal_?” Louis deadpanned, rolling his head to the side to show Granny his unimpressed face. 

He loved her for the way she instantly managed to lighten the mood. Granny chortled, pushing her slipping reading glassed back in place, and dropped the act. 

She winked, “Well, you wouldn’t know, now would you? Considering they look _just_ like regular seals.” 

“You sound worse than Finlay,” Louis scoffed, shaking his head. His eyes were crinkling with amusement. 

Granny chuckled, nodding, “Alright, alright. Maybe we’ll save the Selkie accusations for until you have some more evidence.” She picked her cross-stitch back up from her lap, fixing the hanging yarns that had started to twist together. “And don’t worry too much, Lou. I’m sure your friend will be alright. Having a lad like you around? He’s already better off than most.”    

Louis smiled softly towards the flickering fire, head ducking slightly. 

He really wanted to believe that. 

He also hoped Granny would still be just as supportive, if she ever found out that this boy in question wasn’t quite _just_ a friend. 

* 

The next time Harry _did_ visit Granny’s place, turned out to be a lot sooner than Louis had thought. 

It also turned out to be the same visit the two would meet. It was _also_ the visit that almost caused Louis to have a heart attack. Not because of the two meeting, no. But because Harry just showed up, randomly. 

He just suddenly walked into Louis’ room, curiously looking around like he was there for the first time again. 

“What the—!” Louis yelped, just barely managing to swallow the rest with a pitiful whine. 

“Hi, Lou,” Harry smiled brightly, walking straight up to the bookshelf to poke at the little toy figures. 

“I hate you,” Louis grunted, his heart kicking painfully against his chest as he curled up into a ball on the bed, pulling the sheets with him. “So much.”     

Harry looked up with a shocked expression, but the emotion quickly melted into a mischievous understanding. With a pointed grin he waggled a finger at Louis, then knowingly tapped the bridge of his nose with it. 

And then he was back inspecting the toys. 

“What are you doing here?” Louis asked, trying not to whine. “Granny could’ve seen you.” 

“No, no. She’s asleep,” Harry hummed distractedly, shaking the tiny snow globe that had always been in the room, but Louis couldn't remember where it had came from. “I checked.” 

“I don’t even want to know,” Louis muttered, more to himself than anything. He couldn't really decide if he should be feeling amused or more exasperated. 

A little bit of both, possibly.   

Harry turned to grin at him, after a while, finally fixing the stuff he had pulled from the shelf back in line. With a curious pirouette in the middle of the room he gave a last glance around it, and then promptly toppled on top of curled up Louis. 

Louis groaned, eyes squeezing shut, having Harry’s elbow almost hit his face. 

Instead of making space for himself on the actual bed, Harry just blanketed Louis with his dumb big body, and attached to him like an overgrown baby monkey. 

“Really?” Louis grunted, breaths coming short with the extra weight on him. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, he was complaining more out of the principle. 

Harry always smelled nice; like the salt of the sea and the fresh outdoor air. His hair was in Louis’ face and Louis would have tugged at it if his hands weren't stuck underneath his own torso. 

Harry on the other hand had no problems bullying Louis, taking full advantage of his forced immovability. 

Clever fingers were poking at Louis’ ribs and there were teeth gnawing at his shoulders. Louis almost managed not to give him a reaction, but then the bugger moved his teeth and lips beneath Louis’ ear. 

“Oi,” Louis called out, a bit muffled. It had been a lesson learned, after he had noticed that if he let Harry suck one mark on his skin, he wouldn’t be stopped for a while. Louis felt more than heard Harry’s answering giggle. “What do you think you’re doing, huh?” 

“Missed you,” Harry whispered against his ear, the words rumbling against Louis’ back, soft and warm.

Louis’ answering smile was hidden against the pillows. 

* 

The meeting with Granny was way more anticlimactic than Louis had even dared to hope. Although he wasn't sure why had even been worried. This was _Granny_ and _Harry._ Neither of them had a bad, confrontational bone in their bodies. 

They had gone downstairs, kind of forgetting they weren’t alone, only to find Granny by the hob. Harry and Granny had just pretty much looked at each other, and became best friends. Or something. 

“Lou, be a dear and go get us some more wood for the fire,” Granny had hummed, completely distracted while she had been enamoured by Harry’s curls and rings and smiles and what the ever else. ‘To be honest, Granny: _Same,’_ Louis had thought quietly to himself, then. “I’ll wrap up the dinner.” 

“Oh, can I help?” Harry had asked, excitedly. At first Louis had thought he meant with the wood, but when he had turned to answer, the boy was showing his best pleading eyes to Granny. “Please.” 

When Louis had walked back in with the basket full of firewood, the two had been so immersed into their conversation, that he had just left them to it, walking straight to the den instead. 

After the dinner and a few rounds of evening tea, just before Harry and Louis were to climb upstairs for bed, Granny caught Louis into a tight hug. 

She kissed his cheek, before whispering in his ear, “There’s nothing wrong with this boy, Lou. Don’t worry.” 

Louis halted. 

“How- How do you know?” he whispered back, chest filling with the familiar aching worry for Harry. 

Granny tapped the side of her temple, eyes bright and knowing. She squeezed Louis tightly before letting go. 

“I _know_ ,” she said purposefully pointedly, and Louis had no idea what she meant.   

It only occurred to Louis that Granny hadn’t even offered extra beddings for Harry, bidding them goodnight from the doorway, while the curly headed boy was already snuggled into Louis’ pillows. 

*

The next morning Louis woke up with Harry already gone from the bed. 

It wasn’t hard to find him though. Louis just walked downstairs and into the kitchen, instantly spotting him eating breakfast with Granny, intensely debating- something? 

Whatever it was it seemed intense enough for a breakfast conversation. 

“—and that would imply that there's magic when in reality there's just molecules and matter and lack of information," Harry was saying, brows pressing together. 

"But, Harry-dear, you are magic yourself. Where else would a Kelpie have came from?" 

Louis snorted, starting to recover from the sleepy surprise of finding the two. His insides felt warm at the sight of them. 

He walked away from the doorway and paused to kiss Granny's cheek before sitting at the head of the table. 

Harry was tilting his head, bottom lip pinched between two elegant, long fingers, and his rings clinking together when he tugged at his reddening mouth. 

The boy ignored Louis, although so did Granny, who had just shooed Louis instead of saying good morning. 

Louis pulled a face, looking between the two: his gran looking more intrigued than he had probably ever seen her, and Harry was wearing his usual ‘ _I’m confused but doing it with grace_ ’- face. 

Well, to be honest, Louis would’ve been confused too if his ‘ _we have kinda been dating for a little and you told me you love me when you thought I had drowned_ ’- friend’s grandma would call him magic and a- _Kelpie_? 

"You're a wizard, Harry," Louis said with a nod, voice still gruff from sleep, and then sneaked his chilled, bare feet between Harry’s. 

That seemed to break the _spell._ Ha ha, yes, Louis was hilarious.

Harry turned his head towards Louis, eyes wide and earnest, and he let go of his lip to say: "No, no. I _am_ a Kelpie. But that doesn't mean I'm magic. Or _a wizard_." His gaze turned fond, and he giggled. "You're so silly, Lou." 

Then the boy proceeded to promptly push Louis back out of the conversation, turning back towards Granny. 

"Why would I be any more magic than anything else on this island? Or the whole world? I'm just me, there's nothing magical or new about that.”

Granny hummed, eyes squinting behind her thick reading glasses. "Nothing new, definitely not. Your people can live for centuries, though, if I'm correct?" 

Harry nodded seriously. 

Louis leaned heavily against the back of the chair, choosing to stare up at the ceiling instead. If Granny caught him rolling his eyes after every single sentence, she would smack him in the back of his head, and make him weed the garden again. 

"Usually, yes. But there's less competition for territo- well, for _homes_ , these days, so we tend to live longer than that." 

"And see, that! That's the magic, love! Don't you see?" Granny exclaimed delightedly, tapping the tabletop with her finger. "No human is able to live that long. No matter what we do to stop our ageing. Or- or what about the shape-altering? And the fact that no one ever sees your kind? It should be impossible to hide from today's technology. We would know more of you- it’s impossible that we don’t!” 

Harry nodded slowly, clearly deep in thought as he rested his head against his palm, curls spilling between his fingers. Louis tilted his chin down when he felt Harry twine one ankle tighter against his. 

"A Dragonfly's journey is complete after some four months, and a Mayfly's wings stop beating after just one day," Harry said, one shoulder rising up into a short shrug, almost as if he wasn't spouting out some kind of Planet Earth script in a poetry form. "A Koi Fish can swim for over two hundred years before falling to rest, and some of the Ocean Quahogs have seen the Ming Chinese Dynasty. Sure, they're not human, but that doesn't mean they aren't real. Or that they are magic. They are just different. They are different, non-human, and just- being what they are.

Just because the human society doesn't know about something, or doesn't recognise something, it doesn't mean it's not there, just being. Things can exist without humans and their observation and agreement. And we do, every day. We don't need a permission to be what we are from humans, or from their capability to understand the world and life here.” 

Louis noticed himself having stilled, mesmerised by the slow drawl of Harry’s voice, and the calmness that clung softly on his features. It was captivating. His eyes looked like he was somewhere faraway; speaking about something that had came to him hundreds of years ago, instead of during the twenty something years he was. 

“Humans sometimes forget that they are part of this nature too, part of _this_ magic. They want to control things they can't understand, and they want to control things just because they can. Even though maybe they shouldn't. 

Humans get so caught up in the categories and labels they have created; boxing species and manners and colours; intelligence and sentience, and 'I can explain this, it's science', and 'I can't explain that, it's magic'. And while doing that they are so busy trying to climb on top of those boxes; to be the strongest and the most intelligent, and to orchestrate all the living and the growth and the rules and the truths, that after all that they just end up being the most blinded of us all. The most stupid. The most cruel. 

You label yourself as the strongest- the smartest- yet only the weakest and the most idiotic species would use their strength and greed and ego to destroy their own home, and knowingly slaughtering everyone, and everything, in the process, themselves included.

We're not magic. Humans are not either. But if we want to live our full lives without being systematically targeted by humans- which you do, when your kin thinks another species is just existing here for your pleasure, or as a hunting trophy- we have to evolve to survive from you. 

And no, it's not by magic. We just use some sound waves and signals to confuse your machine- things. Or we become the background. We disappear.” 

Louis was wide eyed. 

Harry smiled broadly, happy and cheerful, as his dimples pressed deep into his cheeks. 

Louis was having troubles keeping his face under control, and keeping his heart going at a normal speed. It wasn't a lie, what Harry was saying but- 

"Did you just call Granny an idiot?" Louis blurted out, almost choking on the words. Harry blinked, doing his usual curious head tilt while eyeing between the stunned pair, sitting on each side of the table. 

"Yes?" he said with a careful nod, locking eyes with Louis. "Is that also rude?" 

Granny let out a delighted belly laugh, so hearty and warm that as her eyes squeezed shut, deep wrinkles appeared all over her temples.

"My goodness! Louis, you picked a good one here!" Granny gushed approvingly, while raising up from her chair. She then reached out to pinch Harry’s reddening, dimpling cheek. "You have a good mind, and a good head on your shoulders, my lad. So gorgeous too!” She seemed thoughtful for a second, before nodding decisively. “You’re very much right. I am going to write that down, now that I still remember with this silly old braincell of mine." She tapped her forehead, grin appearing. "I would love to discuss some more with you later, if you'd like? One's never too old to find new perspective, eh?" 

Harry grinned back at her and with a soft movement swooped Granny's hand over his own and placed a brief kiss on the back of it. 

Granny cackled, blue eyes twinkling, and pulled her hand back, lightly smacking Harry in the back of the head with it. 

"You might not think you have _magic_ but I certainly know how you got my Louis so completely charmed," she winked as she started towards the den.

Harry blushed some more and bit down on his lower lip, peeking at Louis who was fish mouthing after the descending back of his grandma. 

"You better treat this one right, Lou-Lad, I'd like to have him around," she  quipped, almost as an afterthought, as she wandered out of the room. "Or I'll have you weeding the garden for the rest of your life.” 

Louis stared, dazed. 

“I like your granny!” was what zapped him back into the dinner table.

Morning tea in the pot had already clearly gone cold, and the lonely apple on the table was possessively placed in between Harry’s elbows.   

“What?” Louis blinked. He dumbly reached out for a scone, the surface of it hardened in a way that told it had once been warm, sometime earlier in the morning, probably. 

“I don't understand why you were so afraid of me meeting her!” Harry was saying, leaning over the tabletop, ankles knocking against Louis’ excitedly, “We had such an interesting morning. She's so wise!” 

“What?” 

Harry just huffed, then, shaking his head with an amused glint in his eyes, and grabbed the apple.

They munched their breakfasts in silence for a moment, before… 

Louis just _had to_ ask. 

“So, _a Kelpie_ , huh?” he hummed, mind still a bit sleepy, and pulled a part off of the scone, before tucking it on his tongue. 

Harry bobbed his head, turning the already half-eaten apple in his hand, before carefully biting his front teeth back into it. 

“Well, you look nothing like a seahorse to me,” Louis shrugged. 

Harry suddenly sputtered loudly, probably the least graceful Louis had ever seen him. Somehow he still managed to look gorgeous. 

It was almost annoying. 

“Like- _a seahorse?!_ ” Harry gasped thinly, and if it had been anyone else--and the topic not so utterly ridiculous--Louis would’ve almost thought he was actually getting offended by this.

“Well, yeah?” Louis shrugged again, taking another bite from the hardened scone. “Aren’t Kelpies supposed to look like horses? In the water- in the _sea_?” Louis flicked his scone-free hand demonstratively: “Seahorses.”

Harry’s mouth was opening and closing; pink lipped and dumb, and for a person who was insisting they were part fish, he definitely had nailed the impression of one. 

* 

After meeting Granny, they were spending way more time indoors. Not that Louis didn’t enjoy nature of the island, but the weather had clearly decided that the heat of the beginning of the summer had been a mistake, and was now determinately compensating for it. 

Harry didn’t care if it was a blizzard or a bluebell sky; he kept showing up with wet curls and bare feet. He did turn up unannounced all the time now, too, but at least he had the decency to do it fully clothed. Minus the shoes. And sometimes without a proper shirt underneath his jacket. Details. At least his junk was covered. 

Sometimes Louis wasn’t sure if the boy was there for him, or for _Granny._ The two of them had hit it off so spectacularly, and considering the way Harry pouted if the elderly resident of the house was away, Louis almost feared he’d soon be dethroned. 

There was even that one curious occasion when Louis had come back from visiting Mungo, only to find Harry trying to clumsily peel potatoes while Granny chattered away by his side. So. That was now happening? 

Other thing that was happening, was the end of the summer. 

Louis couldn’t pretend anymore, nor ignore the reality of it. Sadly, accepting it didn’t make it any easier to talk about… 

It was still raining, the very end of August arriving glum and chilly over the moors and white beaches of Barra. The wind carried a promise of the fall already. It wasn’t quite as strong as the storm from few weeks back, the one that had been ripping trees off their roots, but it wasn’t just a friendly breeze either.

Louis couldn’t help but think the summer had been a bit too good to be true.

There was something ugly aching inside his chest, when he was laying on his bed, snuggled under Harry’s death weight arm. The small room Louis had spent almost half of his childhood in, was familiar and unchanged. 

And somehow it had given way to accommodate another body.

Louis stared at the ceiling, the hum of the rain against the roof falsely reassuring in its constant familiarity. 

Everything had slotted into place a bit too neatly for it to be… Louis sighed, turning his head against the pillow, cheek resting on Harry’s warm shoulder. 

The already printed plane tickets were peeking out from between the pages of his passport, stored away against some old cookbook on the shelf. They were daunting, cruel, reminding Louis he had no future in the Isle of Barra. 

He really didn’t, he _knew_ it, and yet his mind kept coming up with stupid scenarios and reasons for him to stay. His life—his _real_ life—was on pause in London. 

 _Gosh,_ fucking _London_.

Louis hadn’t spared a single minute thinking what he had left on hold there. His friends from uni, from work, all the acquaintances, the flat he had been subletting… It had all been tucked away somewhere in the back of his mind. 

Summers in Barra had always been a break from reality for Louis, but this year? This was something Louis wasn’t sure he could return back from. 

They hadn’t discussed it, _at all,_ and Louis wasn’t even quite sure if Harry had actually realised he would be leaving. The boy was the same as always; gentle and calm, and needy in his sweet clinginess. Louis didn’t want to think of the option that maybe he just wasn’t as bothered by it… 

That didn’t seem like Harry, to be honest, but Louis also knew that he had been the one to be more forward about his attachment. Harry was more action than talk. It was lovely, but it allowed the sour aftertaste of _Doubt_ cling on Louis’ tongue after every time they kissed. 

Rationally Louis knew he was being an idiot about it. He knew they just needed to talk. But that was the last thing he wanted to do. 

He didn’t want to hear it. 

Louis knew his actual, normal, boring life was in London, and no matter how much he wanted to see Harry as a part of his future… 

And well… Harry didn’t mention it either. 

Louis sighed again, wearily pressing his lips against the bare skin under his cheek. He really shouldn’t have let it go undiscussed this long, it was his own stupidity, all of it. But it’d been nice to pretend, for a while. 

Maybe it would be like one of those Summer Loves they kept crooning on about in the radio?

Maybe Louis would just go on, travel to London, and wait for the winter to pass. Then the next summer, they’d awkwardly avoid each other, both steering away from the familiar spots on the rocky, moor-y island that they had made _theirs._  

Even the thought of it had Louis feeling _wrong._  It didn’t feel like something he could just walk away from. _Harry_ didn’t feel like someone he could just walk away from. 

And that’s exactly what he was going to be doing, in a few days. 

Louis bit back a frustrated grunt, breath hitching sharply as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

Harry was so warm and soft underneath him, chest rising and falling with deep, sleeping breaths. Louis lifted his chin, turning to run his eyes over the sleeping form of the boy. 

There was a fading, almost purple mark on the dip of Harry’s throat. It was where Louis had worked on paying back for all the many bruises Harry had left on him. It wasn’t very impressive; Louis had gotten distracted quite quickly, abandoning the lovebite to suck on Harry’s pouty bottom lip instead. 

Louis brought his fingers up to gently pet over the bruise. It would be gone in a few days. Which… 

So would Louis. 

Frustrated, and increasingly anxious, Louis left the lovebite alone. He trailed his fingers down, pushing them under Harry’s palm, and then carefully slotted them in between Harry’s.   

Louis stared down at their hands, listening to the hum of the rain outside, and the steady beat of Harry’s heart beneath his ear.

His own hand looked terribly small and dainty, resting there over Harry’s belly, causing Louis’ to wrinkle his nose. Harry’s fingers were longer, elegant, and the rings decorating them looked both ridiculous and stunning. Louis couldn’t even imagine Harry without them anymore, no matter how peculiar they had seemed in the beginning. 

Mismatched, heavy, and old, and so familiar now. The blue stoned band Louis had gotten used to wearing fit perfectly amongst all of Harry’s. 

Louis rubbed a finger over the decorated knuckles, looking up to see if the boy was showing any signs of waking up. 

Harry’s lashes were fluttering, mouth slightly ajar. His hair was a messed, knotted cloud on the pillow, 

Louis looked back down, softly grazing the ruby glinting on Harry’s middle finger. 

He didn’t think, really. Just glanced up, and then back down again, before sliding the crimson-stoned ring off of Harry’s unsuspecting hand.         

There was a loud, startling hiss, the second the band lost contact with Harry’s skin. 

Louis gasped, the air of the room turning icy cold for a short millisecond, and then he lurched forward, _through_ Harry.       

Except- He didn’t go through Harry. There _was_ _no_ Harry. 

An odd wave of swirling water splashed down on the bed, spraying all over the room- all over Louis. The sudden sound of it was forceful and loud, and then there was… Silence.

“ _H-Harry?_ ” Louis breathed out, looking down on his shaking hands. 

It took him a moment to hear the hum of the rain outside again, and how there was water dripping somewhere inside the room. 

The drip drop of it was haunting. 

“Harry?” he whispered, pushing up from the sopping wet bed where he had fallen on his chest. His shirt was soaked, his hair too, droplets falling down his face. It was the taste of the sea. 

The ring was burning on Louis’ palm, as if it was pulsing with life. The red ruby looked almost liquid-like, but it was solid against the soft touch of his fingertips when he bend his trebling joints towards it. Warm and pulsing, but solid. 

Something was off. 

Something was wrong. 

Something… _Louis_ had gone _mad_. 

“Granny!” Louis cried out, his voice sounding thin and scared in a way he had never heard himself before. “ _Gran!_ ” 

Louis stumbled out of the bed, water spraying into the air from where it had pooled over the duvet. Louis had to fight his legs free from it, water falling down in streams as he stood upright. He was pressing the scalding ring against his chest, held tight inside his white knuckled fist. 

“Haz!” he tried next, rushing out of the room, his knees feeling weak. Louis almost missed the first two steps of the stairway in his rush but somehow managed to survive downstairs with his head still intact. And most importantly: the ring still in his hold. 

“Louis?” Granny asked from the kitchen. “What’s the ruckus? And what have I told you about running in the—” 

“Have you seen Harry?” Louis blurted out breathlessly, surging into the room. The kitchen tiles were freezing under his bare feet but there was something even colder sitting on the bottom of his belly. Water was dripping down his legs, from the tips of his fingers, small pools quickly collecting on the floor. “ _Did you see him?_ ” 

“Oh,” Granny said surprised, twisting to face Louis. “Not just now, no. I last saw you both when you came in. Why?” 

“I-” Louis said weakly, looking out the window where the rain was still pouring down, and then around the kitchen. 

Harry had been there, in Louis’ room. Just now. But then he wasn't there. But he _had_ been. And then— 

“Louis,” Granny said, voice edging towards sternness. It wasn’t a tone Louis was too familiar with. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know, okay!” Louis exclaimed, feeling so horribly guilty and confused and scared that he knew his neck and ears were starting to blush with it. His fringe was glued to his forehead, wet and itchy with it. “I was just curious. I didn’t realise something would happen! It’s _just a ring_.” 

Granny inhaled sharply. 

Louis whipped his head towards her, “What? What is it?” 

Granny was standing up from the table. “You took his _bridle_ ,” she said, one hand rising to touch her mouth. She looked shocked, stunned. 

Louis started to shake his head, and then just kept going. 

“His—? No, I didn’t!” Louis was _confused_ , arms flying up in frustration, knuckles still white around the burning band. “I just wanted to have a look at the ring! Try it on. _Something!_ ” 

Granny was circling around the table, mouth tense, and unreadable look in her narrowing eyes. 

“It’s not really _a_ _bridle_ , of course! Not an actual one. Gosh, Louis, that’s just old folk-say getting mixed up,” she said, words rushed and intense, adding to the spinning in Louis’ head. She was grabbing the thick jacket from the back of the chair. “He’s not really _a horse_ , Louis, for goodness sake! He’s _a_ _Kelpie_.” 

Louis stood frozen in place, water still dripping from his clothes. Granny pushed the jacket to his chest, bluntly smacking his arm, when Louis didn’t react. 

“You need to get it back to him, Lou,” she said, the shake of her head somehow disappointed. Louis was starting to panic, eyes wide as his head jerked up. 

“I- I… _What?_ ” he stuttered, words thick in his throat, struggling to get out instead of the insistent, confused sob. A soft, high-pitched whine pushed out. 

Granny’s eyes snapped to meet his then, calculating, before softening in understanding. 

“Oh, _Louis,_ ” she sighed sympathetically, taking the jacket back from his lifeless arms. She shook it open, and tugged it over Louis shoulders. “You didn’t- You didn’t know.” 

Louis blinked up at her, allowing her to manipulate his arms into the sleeves of the coat. He swayed forward as the zipper was pulled up. 

“ _A Kelpie?_ ” Louis whispered, mostly to himself, but Granny nodded, and pushed his wet fringe up from his face. _A— Kelpie?_

“I told you I knew?” she wondered, confused, searching something in Louis’ eyes. 

Louis didn’t know if she saw anything there, other than maybe the sheer panic, that was wrapping itself around Louis’ bobbing throat.    

“I thought you meant Harry and I, together! Dating!” Louis exclaimed. His free hand wrapped around the one with the ring in it, trembling. Granny stared. 

“Why’d I—” she started incredulously, before cutting it off, shaking her head with a huff, “Doesn’t matter. You need to give him the ring back. I don’t think— He shouldn’t be without it.” 

Louis tried to swallow down the building tears. Had he—? Was Harry hurt? 

Was he _hurt_ , because of Louis? 

“Granny—?” Louis breathed out, but Granny shook her head sharply, killing the question on his tongue. 

“Come on, I’ll drive,” she urged, turning already, “I’m sure you’ll know where to go.” 

* 

Louis wasn’t sure if he knew. 

He didn’t know what had happened. He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what was real, and what was not. 

Was this really happening? 

Granny had stayed behind in the car, calling someone, maybe Baz. She had said something else, too, Louis was sure, but he couldn’t remember. 

It was all a mess, his memory of the past hour just a muddled, distorted flash. 

It was raining. Why was it raining? Louis had already been soaked wet before stepping out of the car to stumble down the hillside towards the shore. 

He was wearing a long parka, the shorts he had been sleeping in barely peeking out from under the hem. His legs were bare, knees scraped open from when he had slipped and fell on the rocky shore. 

Louis could barely breathe. 

“ _Harry?_ ” he whispered, rainwater trickling down his jawline, droplets hanging onto his lashes. 

This was _insane_. This couldn’t— This… 

Louis breath was stuttering, shivers wracking through his whole body. 

The surface of the sea was bubbling unnaturally, something swirling beneath. 

Louis’ heart bounded, instinct demanding him to step back, turn away, and _run._  

Louis was stuck. 

He couldn't think, any and all thoughts gone from his head. Everything was just happening in front of his eyes, while he was just left to watch it unfurl, helplessly. It was too much, too fast. 

“ _Can I have it back?_ ” the sea asked. Or the _something_ asked. 

Was it Harry? 

Louis wasn’t sure, but there was a pleasant voice echoing inside his mind, and it was calling him and Louis kind of wanted to just sink into it and be surrounded by it for the rest of forever. 

“Yes. Y-yeah. It’s yours, isn't it?” Louis choked out, water clumping his lashes and making everything look blurry. “It’s Harry’s. Is that—? It’s Harry’s.” 

“ _Yes,_ ” the voice rang again, coiling and powerful, just like the sea before Louis. “ _I would like to have it back._ ” 

Even the short sentence… Just. The sound was so _gorgeous_. 

It was everything Louis had ever wanted, and then some. It was intoxicating, drawing him in, whispering promises he couldn’t understand, kissing them up his arms and neck. 

It was dizzying.

“ _Stay away,_ ” the words inside his head commanded. _Come with me,_ was what was felt all over his shivering body. 

Louis’ legs were soaked to the bleeding knees in dirt, and pieces of dark grass were clinging to his skin. His left hand was almost hidden in the wet, muddy sand where he was leaning to the ground. Louis hadn’t even noticed getting down on his knees. 

The ring was burning into his right palm. 

“I’m giving it back,” Louis said. His own voice sounded a bit funny. Somehow hollow, and faraway. He didn’t mind though, he just wanted to hear the voice of the sea. It was all he needed then. “I promised… I- I wasn’t stealing it. I’m giving it back.”

“ _Do not touch the water._ ” 

The sea was looking restless--even more now--odd currents twisting just underneath the surface. The foamed hems of the waves were desperately trying to reach out towards Louis, just to be yanked back and under the mass of the water. 

It was gorgeous. _Gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous._ The rain was running down Louis’ nose, over his lips and down his neck. His fringe was hanging heavy over his eyes but Louis didn’t feel like he needed his eyes to see anymore. 

“ _Louis, no!_ ” 

Louis touched the water. 

*           

 _Harry was so far from the shore that the water had turned dark instead of clear already kilometres ago._  

 _The little daylight that had managed to push through the rainclouds was swallowed by the darkness and deafening silence of the under._  

 _Harry himself was the only light here, and just barely. His currents blinked and flashed dully as they swirled, the green weeds growing from the pale sanded bottom curling around him. Grains of sand glittered as they floated, hanging suspended in the mass of the water._  

 _It hadn’t even been_ _full minutes_ _since he had pushed away from the shore, and he never wanted to go back._  

 _Whatever reason had he even bothered to go to the land in the first place?_  

 _Harry didn’t know, couldn’t recall it. But he knew how he had missed his home. It was calm and familiar here, the pressure of the water helping him breathe._  

 _He felt welcome. And safe._  

 _And then there was Louis._  

 _Frantic, distressed bubbles rushed sharply in every which way when the shape of the boy registered before him._  

 _Lifeless shape._  

 _He looked sickly pale, and_ calm _, too still in the hold of the freezing water. His hair looked soft, but so grim; floating weightlessly with the current of Harry’s soundless cry._  

 _Louis’ eyes were open, empty. The blue didn’t match the sea when he was drowning in it._  

 _His gorgeous Louis._  

_Harry couldn’t explain what it felt like when he realised what he had done._

_He had lured Louis in. Pulled him under and wrapped into the waves of himself; of Harry. Suffocating him. Filling his lungs with water and salt, bewitching his mind._  

 _There were still traces of a twisted,_ wrong _, smile on Louis’ face._  

 _The water around them moved faster, the currents blinking and flashing harsher with the urgency that was consuming Harry._  

 _He wrapped around Louis the best he could, his liquid-like body stirring the water so strongly Harry knew the waves in the surface were growing in height._  

 _His body churned and foamed, the fanned-out fins of his formless limbs only a mess of seething water._  

 _“Louis!” Harry tried desperately, but his voice was just the hum of the ocean._  

 _He was already pushing back towards the surface, he knew he would reach it in no time._  

 _But he had no time._  

_Louis’ fist uncurled, opening like his joints had already been stiffened. Two tiny bubbles floated up from his ajar mouth. His eyes stayed empty._

_The ruby was like a drop of blood in the darkness._  

 _It— It was._  

 _That’s exactly what it was._  

 _It was Harry’s blood. Harry’s_ life. 

 _He didn’t think before he had already guided the ring to Louis’ left hand._  

 _Harry could_ feel _the way it wrapped around Louis’ cold skin. The way it pressed against the rose-golden band Louis had never taken off his middle finger, not ever, since he first got it. He could feel the way it sat against the stiffened joints of his delicate finger._  

 _Harry could count his own beating pulse on Louis’ body, he could feel the breaths he didn’t need_ under _, and he could feel how his blinking currents were starting to slowly reshape into his human alter._  

 _He kept pushing towards the surface, almost there. That was when he felt Louis,_ seeing him. 

 _Harry didn’t stop reaching for the air, and the sky, and the rain that he could hear now._  

 _They were getting closer and Harry knew Louis was watching him, yet he was staying unmoving in his arms, heart beating against Harry’s— Although it was now Harry’s pulse that was thinning out… Slowing down… Creeping to a stop._  

 _His own home trying to end him; his heart not supported by the water anymore._  

 _The pouring rain hitting the sea around them was a deafening sound, just like the silence of the under had been._  

 _The air smelled fresh and wet, and it was salty on Harry’s human tongue._      

 _*_  

Mungo and Baz pulled the coughing Louis out of the water, catching him from under his arms as Harry hauled him up from the thrashing waves.

The rain was beating down on them almost painfully, the way it drummed into the surface of the water making it hard to hear anything. Louis could just barely make the shape of Granny’s car up on the road as he stumbled to get his legs to work. 

"We've got you, man!” Baz panted, making sure Louis was fully on land before turning to help Mungo. The blond was trying not to slip over the edge of the bank as he reached out for Harry. 

Louis kept coughing, the leftovers of the salty water grating in his lungs like burning sand. There were hot tears on his cold, wet face, and Harry looked devastated. 

Harry, who stayed behind, as Mungo wrapped Louis in a dey raincoat a moment later, just silently staring down to his bare feet. Harry kept glancing back at the horizon though, fingers clenching around each other, rubbing at the ringless middle finger of his left hand, clearly in distress. 

"Haz," Louis rasped, his voice like a dry shore rubbing against something unforgiving. He had to pause to cough again, hacking. " _Harry._ " 

The green eyes were agitated when they finally met Louis’. 

The moment stretched, painful. 

“Please,” Louis pleaded, voice trembling with the cold. The rain was getting into his mouth. He didn’t know what he would do if Harry wouldn’t— 

“ _Please don’t go away._ ” 

*

"So the Naked Curly Cherub _wasn’t_ a lie," Baz mused out loud, just before he parked the car on the side of the road, outside Granny’s. 

The statement felt so casual and _normal,_ that Louis wasn’t sure how to handle the mundanity of it. He wasn’t sure how to handle _any_ of it. 

He had just drowned. 

Louis was pretty sure he had. 

His lungs were still burning. 

No one answered, but Granny turned to look to the back from where she was sat on the front seat. 

She eyed Louis first, worried crease in between her brows as he trembled wrapped in two jackets and a quilt. She bypassed the confused looking Mungo, sitting next to the door, and locked intense eyes with Harry. 

“If I go stay somewhere else for the evening, so you two can talk, will you make sure he’s taken care of?” It wasn’t really a question, or a suggestion. It was a warning and an order. “Can I trust you, _Capall Uisce_?” 

“Yes, _Seanamhair_ ,” Harry replied with a sharp inhale, flinching. His voice was quiet, but he held the challenging gaze until Granny nodded. The ‘ _You better_ ’ was clear from the dangerous set of her shoulders.

Harry would probably have tried to keep his distance, but Louis clung to his arm from the second they were out of the car. 

He held on all the way into the house, through the hall, and up the stairs to the bathroom. He felt desperate and childish and unsure, but he couldn’t bare to lose contact. He barely let go for Harry to strip the sopping wet clothes and quilts off of them, to get them under the hot shower. 

They didn’t talk. 

They just stood wrapped around each other while the steaming water drummed down their frozen backs. 

* 

Harry was fiddling nervously with his rings— _with_ _the rest of his rings—_ and the fire from the den’s fireplace was almost too hot.  

Harry’s back was tense, and the way his breathing shuttered was clearly audible. Louis wasn’t doing much better. 

 _“_ If it’s taken, not given, we have to turn back into our- original form… _Reveal_ ourselves, I suppose.” Harry looked uncomfortable, withdrawn. Louis didn’t blame him. Neither of the had planned for _this_. “And the taker could control us, if they wanted to.” 

“But if it’s _given_ , we…” Harry furrowed his brows, shaking his head in frustration as he tried to explain. _“_ The sea will always pull me back, but… I think it’s supposed to be easier if someone else… If _you_ had it.” 

“The ring?” Louis questioned, voice hoarse, trying to make sense of it. _Any_ of it. “What- So, the ring _does_ something?” 

“I… Well, I can live on land, _and_ in the water, with it. No matter the form,” Harry said, licking his lips distractedly, “But there’s the pull… It’s tied to the first form, the first alter. Which… I guess it’s the sea, somehow? It’s _me_ but I’m part of the sea, and the ring is tied to the water.” Harry sighed, seeming anxious as he tried to word it right. “So, if. If you have the ring, the pull will be gone, because it’s not tied into the sea anymore. It’ll be easier for me to stay human, then, because… It’d be connected to _you,_ not the water.” 

Louis wasn’t sure he understood. Well, he _understood_ , but he wasn’t sure if he completely got what it meant. “But for how long? Will the pull be gone for forever?” And what did that even mean? Was it a bad thing for Harry to feel the ocean, if it was a part of him- If it _was_ him? 

Wasn’t that how he was supposed to be? 

“I don’t know. I have never tried giving it away before,” Harry shrugged slightly. 

Louis tilted his head, “The ring?” 

“Oh. My life? I guess,” Harry said haltingly, carefully eyeing him. “But the ring, too.” 

Louis probably looked horrified. There was a pause. 

Then, his fingers were jerkingly spreading apart like the dark gold of the band had just burned him. 

Louis knew that Harry was already aware of how frustrated Louis got about things like this. The _magic,_ as Granny insisted to call it, still. Until this morning Louis had still thought it was all bollocks, for fucks sake. And look at where it had gotten him. 

“Your life!?” he hissed, pushing his left palm against Harry’s chest so fast he hit the hard muscle a bit more violently than intended. “Your _actual life_ is in the ring? Inside _this_ ring? On my finger?” 

“Yes?” 

“Oh my _fucking_ —” 

“It’s not a big deal, Lou! Calm down,” Harry was saying, and Louis wanted to smack him again. He did. He also wanted to rip the ring right off, and force it back on Harry, but he didn't want to risk anything. He had no idea what would happen. What if Harry would just keel over and die the second Louis took the ring off? “It’s just a ring.” 

“With your life in it!” Louis growled. He was getting seriously upset. “No big deal!? You’re such an idiot sometimes!” 

“Why are you so angry?” Harry huffed, arms folding over his chest, under Louis’ forceful palm, and the corners of his mouth tugging down. “I want you to have it.”   

“I don’t want your life, Harry!” Louis cried out sharply, not even trying to keep his voice down anymore. His chest was heaving. “What the hell!?” 

And Harry… He looked like someone had just ripped his heart open. 

“You—? _Oh_.” There was wetness quickly gathering in the corners of his stupid green eyes. His broad shoulders were jerkingly curving inwards, gaze drifting down. Louis’ own chest was burning at the sight of him but he was too angry- too upset to have it sidetrack him. “But I thought…” 

“You thought what?” Louis snapped. He knew he was being harsh. He didn’t want to be harsh; this was Harry _,_ of course he didn’t want to be. But this was some bullshit. Giving his _life_ to Louis? What an absolute fucking dolt. 

“You- I thought you…” Harry’s voice was barely audible, defeated, “loved me…” 

Louis almost got a headrush from how quickly he went from pissed to increasingly panicked.    

“Of course I love you. _Harry_. You know I do,” he assured urgently, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of Harry’s jumper, instead of just pressing into it. As if just that could stop him from leaving, or from _turning back into the sea._ Louis wasn’t yelling anymore, either. It felt wrong when Harry looked like he was about to crumble. “You _know_ I do. I’m the one who’s actually said it.” 

“Why won’t you take it then?” Harry exclaimed, the frustrated force of it causing his tears to overflow, wetting his cheeks. “You’re saying you love me, and I’ve known for months that _I_ _love_ _you,_ but you _saw_ me, in the water, and you’re still here, but you can’t even stand looking at the ring, now! I don’t understand! If you’d just take—” 

“I can’t believe you just told me you love me while we’re fighting,” Louis choked. There was a burn around his eyes, too, but he kept blinking it away. 

After a short, unmoving pause, Harry whispered, “We were fighting when you told me that, too.” He looked down, his hair rushing to pour over his temples. 

Louis gasped out a wet, broken laugh. He felt a bit too hysterical for it to be comfortable anymore. “And to think that- For a moment, back then, I really thought you might’ve drowned…” 

Harry looked back up, eyes shining in the flickering light of the fire. 

Louis swallowed, shaking his head in breathless disbelief, “Apparently that’s not something I should’ve worried about.” 

“I guess not…” Harry whispered, sounding defeated, _sad_. Louis’ chest was hurting, and not just from the seawater he had inhaled and swallowed. 

This wasn’t getting anywhere. 

“Why would any of that have anything to do with you giving your life away?” Louis asked, careful to keep the unsettling feelings over that suggestion under wraps. 

“Well, that’s what happened when the last Kelpie left to leave on land. I think.” Harry was furrowing his brows, eyes moving slightly back and forth as he focused. “It’s just a story, now.” 

“And when did this story happen?” Louis asked, trying to just… He didn’t even know what. He just didn’t want to allow his mind wander away with his doubts and uncertainties. 

Harry’s brows pressed together even tighter. “I’m not sure. The 1200s? Or that’s when I learned it first.” 

Louis gaped. 

“Yeah, I think- yeah. Around that time.” Harry looked like he was trying to forcibly make himself remember. He had once told Louis that he had never been too keen on keeping up with the man-time. Especially in the middle ages. He had hated how they just fought and killed, back then. Louis had thought it was just one of his ridiculous imaginary stories. Him trying to make some sort of activism fuelled point about humanity… “It was when _King Alexander II of Scotland_ was… That was when he was just a young lad, right?” 

“You tell me,” Louis said, gobsmacked. 

“1200s,” Harry nodded, decisively. “Approximately.” 

“Approximately,” Louis repeated weakly. At least neither of them were crying anymore. For now. “Holy shit.” 

There was a tense pause in the conversation, then. Harry was eyeing Louis carefully, while Louis just… _Fuck._  

“When were you born?” Louis wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer to that. It was all getting a little bit too overwhelming.

“I can’t remember that,” Harry muttered, “I was just foam and then I wasn’t, I guess.” 

“Well, what’s the earliest you can remember?” Louis pressed. He didn’t think it was actually that important, but he needed something to focus his scattered thoughts to. Although… He wasn’t sure if this was going to do anything to clear up his confusion. 

“I don’t usually live with your time, Louis,” Harry sighed, “And I don’t know. I only check in when I feel like it, and I used to move around a lot more, too. I kind of liked the 600s, though. Their traditions were funny. And their clothes.” 

They fell quiet after that, Louis staring into the flames with unfocused gaze. He knew he should’ve tried to _think,_ really think. But his head was empty, thoughts just halted bursts of disconnected images. Louis wasn’t sure if he _could_ wrap his head around this, even if he tried. It was all against _everything_ Louis had grown up to believe in- To trust in. _Harry_ was. 

“What are you thinking, Lou?” The words were whispered, fragile, and unsure. As if Harry was afraid he would scare Louis by sounding too strong. “I didn’t mean to scare you, or- or… I- I _promise_ I thought you knew! I didn’t try to hide it _at all_ , I—” 

“I know, Haz, I…” Louis rubbed his face with both hands, pushing his still damp hair back towards the top of his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a short moment. “I just… It’s a bit much.” Louis sighed out a heavy breath. “I don’t know.” 

He swallowed heavily a few times, blinking hard while turning to look up towards the ceiling. He couldn’t stop touching the rings on his left hand, one glinting red, the other hazy blue.

Louis licked his lips, reaching out to curl his palm over Harry’s nape. The weary green eyes fell shut, and Harry sighed, leaning towards the touch.    

“Could you- show me?” Louis asked hesitantly after a short pause, fingertips pressing down on the strong relaxing muscles. Moisture-darkened curls pooled over his knuckles.

“I don’t… _Louis_.” Harry blinked his eyes back open, looking conflicted and distressed. His bottom lip was wet when he released it from the press of his teeth.

“I’m not scared,” Louis was quick to say, even though he wasn’t quite sure. Yet. He wasn’t even sure if he believed what had happened. What was _happening._ But… It didn’t stop _being_ just because it wasn’t visible, or right _there_. He wasn’t sure, even though he knew it was real. It had happened. It- it _was_ right _there_ , “You don’t… You don’t scare me.”

“It scares _me,_ ” Harry countered immediately, voice lower than usual, and dark with even darker emotion. “My lure pulled you in, even when I didn’t want it to,” he gritted out. “It’ll do it again.”

Louis opened his mouth, but…

“No, Louis,” Harry said, eyes squeezing shut as he clearly struggled to be firm with him. “It’s not safe. I’m not… _I’m not_ safe like that.”

“But it’s still you?” Louis tried weakly, struggling to understand. His fingers curled into a fist, Harry’s hair soft inside his closed palm.

“It is,” Harry sighed, agreeing, “But... It’s not just Folklore, Lou. The stories come from somewhere.”

Louis felt lost, shaking his head unsurely. Harry wasn’t some miserable, death-wishing beast, that much was obvious. They wouldn’t be having this conversation if he was. So then how—

“Just because I have the capability to make people want to drown themselves, doesn’t mean I’ll do it. Or _want_ to do it.” Harry looked upset by his own words- the admission- shoulders rising while his chin dipped down. He didn’t seem comfortable being… What he- was? “I think… If we have the power over something, or someone, we shouldn’t abuse that. Not just because we can.”

Louis let a small, sad sound out from the back of his throat. He leaned in to touch their foreheads together, giving into the growing urge to be closer.

“But… So, you can’t control it?” Louis asked softly, after a short silence of them just leaning together. His brows were pressing down as he tried to take it in.

“I can,” Harry said, “to an extend. Just… Sometimes the sea makes it really hard to want to care.”

He almost whispered the last part, lashes sweeping down as he lowered his gaze. Louis breathed in the familiar scent of him, mixing with clinging traces of the rain and the ocean. He didn’t like the way Harry was curling in on himself, ashamed and sad and guilty, as if he was expecting to be shunned. As if he was shunning _himself_.

“That’s why I’ve been sticking to this alter, rather than the one I was born into,” Harry said, not raising his eyes from their laps, “I’m like any _man_ , when like this. Except—” he swallowed, seeming hesitant, “I don’t kill.”

Louis breathed out, in- relief? He didn’t know. He was feeling so many emotions at once, and it felt impossible to get them in coherent order. His thoughts were even worse off.

“I think that’s already a lot better than some of us can ever turn out to be,” Louis whispered gently, tugging at the hair in Harry’s nape to have him tilt his head up. Louis pressed their lips together, Harry’s wavering exhale tickling his cheek.

“I feel like a phoney,” Harry admitted thickly, after turning away from the soft kiss. Louis could feel his lips moving against the corner of his mouth. “I’m still no man, Louis.”

“I don’t care,” Louis said. And he didn’t. He really didn’t.

Harry ignored the words. “I was never supposed to get this involved with… And I- I don’t know if this is right.” He seemed to be crumbling, finally. “ _Lou_ ,” Harry whined out, eyes glittering with the refused wetness pooling in them.

Louis petted a palm over Harry’s cheek, pushing tangled hair back and behind his ear. Their eyes met.

“Does it matter, really?” he asked after another stretching moment spent in silence. Louis could hear his own heart beating in his ears. “We’re not hurting anyone.”

“I almost- I hurt _you_ ,” Harry answered, shakily, not breaking the eye contact.

“Did you?” Louis asked, “Or did I do something you had asked me not to, hm? Asked me, so you could keep me— _us—_ safe?”

“I…” Harry breathed out, brows furrowing. Louis tried to smile.

“Maybe it was me, hurting you,” Louis admitted softly. “I broke your trust, and- Well. This happened.”

“Something like this wasn’t… You didn’t even know something like this _could_ happen,” Harry defended him, shaking his head. Louis squeezed his nape, stilling the disagreeing movement. “This is not real. To you… _This isn’t even your reality_.”

Harry sounded almost awed at the realisation of that, the tone of his voice a mix of horrified acceptance and misery.

Louis pressed his thumb deeper into Harry’s nape, mouth tensing.

“It is _now,_ ” he said firmly, cutting off the idiotic _whatever_ that had been growing behind Harry’s eyes. He might not understand it completely, yet, but he was sure of this. “And it will be.”

“It will?” Harry confirmed, sniffing quietly. When he blinked, two heavy tears dropped from where they had been hanging onto his lower lashes. Louis watched him rub the corner of his eye with a wrist, and then reached to wipe his other cheek dry with his own.

“Yeah,” Louis said, as confidently as he could muster with suppressed crying piling up in his own throat. “I don’t know how, yet. But yes. _It will._ ”

He didn’t know how they could sort this out- if there even was a way to do that. 

But he wanted to. And Louis was sure Harry wanted to, too, even with his completely justified doubts and uncertainty. All of it felt like _too much_ not to be, or become, _anything_. 

They were quiet for a long while, lost in troubled thought. They weren’t touching properly, now, but they had never lost contact on each other completely. Louis fingers were still touching Harry’s shoulder, Harry’s thigh pressed against his own. 

“There’s water in London,” Harry said quietly, then, looking down towards his lap. He was playing with the leg of his borrowed joggers, shoulders hunched. 

“I— Well, I guess? What—” Louis cut himself off, looking up sharply. “ _Harry_ …” 

“I mean, maybe it would be the right time for me to travel a bit again, anyway,” the boy continued softly, avoiding looking at Louis. He quieted with a heavy swallow, shrugging. He had clearly been thinking of this before...

The fire was the only sound in the room, humming in the background as the silence stretched out. Louis knuckles were white, fingers of the hand not touching Harry clenching around the edge of the couch. He felt cold, and trembly, and he wanted nothing more than to cross the gaping distance between them. Physical and- maybe mental too?

Harry peeked carefully up at Louis, eyes vulnerable, and _scared_. 

Something lurched inside Louis’ chest, so powerful it was almost too much to handle. He knew it showed on his face by the way Harry reacted; sitting up straighter, fingers ever so slightly reaching towards Louis. 

With a shuddering breath Louis pressed the heels of his palms against his eye-sockets, swallowing around the thickness that just kept building in his throat. He shook his head, a choked up laugh quivering its way out. 

This was all too much. He didn’t know what to think. What to _do_ …   

“Louis?” Harry whispered, weak and unsure. His voice was a lot closer than it had been before, and that was the only clue Louis got, before he was engulfed in Harry’s tight hold. Finally. 

“You’d _hate_ London,” Louis managed to force out after breathing in a few times, turning to hide his face against Harry’s arm, hands dropping on their thighs. His voice was thick and uneven, a hiccuping breath escorting the words. “It’s disgusting, the water. You’d get sick.”    

“I don’t get sick like that,” Harry muttered, soothing. He rubbed a heavy hand up and down Louis’ side, his other palm hot against his nape. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, jaws clenching. “I could work on cleaning it? To have something to do,” Harry hummed, thumb pressing down behind Louis’ ear, massaging gently. “I think I’d like that.”

Louis laughed wetly, unable to control the shaky outburst. 

“Of course you would,” he sniffed, shaking his head, forehead pressed tightly against Harry’s upper arm. “ _Gosh._ ” 

Harry tightened his hold, squeezing Louis tighter into his chest. Louis felt lips pressing against his shoulder. 

“’s just me, Lou,” Harry whispered wearily, before sighing, the warm air seeping through the fabric of Louis’ jumper. He sounded like he was trying to assure them both. Convince them. “I know I’m not-- That maybe you shouldn’t…”

“No. I- I know,” Louis answered, barely audible, but sure. He leaned closer, curling against Harry’s side. It was just Harry. Louis knew that. Just _…_ “I know, I…” Louis breathed in deeply, “Love you.” 

Harry turned his head, face pressing into the side of Louis’ throat, lashes fluttering against the sensitive skin there. “We’ll figure it out, yeah?”   

“Yeah,” Louis nodded, sniffing quietly again, while continuing to hug the boy as tightly as he dared. He was still shaky, but Harry’s warmth was helping to hold it at bay. “I know.” 

“I love you, too,” Harry added then, firmly, and Louis could feel the wetness from his eyes on his neck. 

Louis burrowed even closer, curling in, muscles on his arms straining with the urgency of the embrace. 

“I know.”   

*

 Louis was looking down at the shrinking Barra. 

The white beach was getting smaller and smaller, the sea glinting in the dull daylight. The sky had been grey the whole morning, and Louis kept staring down until the view was swallowed by the heavily hanging clouds. 

With a heavy exhale he relaxed back into his seat, gazing up at the buttons on the low-set bottom of the luggage hold.

His head was aching, and the pressure inside the rising plane was locking his ears. His stomach was calling for a snack and Louis briefly thought of the sandwiches Granny had prepared, neatly wrapped in cling wrap, tucked in the side pocket of his bag. He didn’t feel like he’d be able to find the energy to reach for them, though.   

Louis looked down, finding himself fiddling with the blue-stoned band on his left hand’s middle finger. The only band he wore. 

He rubbed a gentle thumb over the warmed metal, before breathing out a heavy sigh. Louis closed his eyes, smiling tiredly, and tilted his head to rest against the seat. The decorated surface of the gemstones was soothing under his fingertips, and the promise tied to the band reassuring, and _real_.

He didn’t let go of that little reminder—that little promise unyielding around his finger—until long after they had landed. 

*

_Take Care Down By The Water_

**Author's Note:**

> The Original Folklore: _“A folk tale from Barra tells of a lonely kelpie that transforms itself into a handsome young man to woo a pretty young girl it was determined to take for its wife. But the girl recognises the young man as a kelpie and removes his silver necklace (his bridle) while he sleeps. The kelpie immediately reverts to its equine form, and the girl takes it home to her father's farm, where it is put to work for a year. At the end of that time the girl rides the kelpie to consult a wise man, who tells her to return the silver necklace. Once again transformed into the handsome young man she had first met the wise man asks the kelpie whether if given the choice it would choose to be a kelpie or a mortal. The kelpie in turn asks the girl whether, if he were a man, she would agree to be his wife. She confirms that she would, after which the kelpie chooses to become a mortal man, and the pair are married.”_ -The Celtic Breeze: Stories of the Otherworld from Scotland, Ireland, and Wales (McNeil 2001)  
>   
>  If you'd like you can check my tumblr for some photos and visuals for this story. I've been reblogging some while writing this. 
> 
> [ http://shyshyserious.tumblr.com ](http://shyshyserious.tumblr.com)  
>    
> Thank you xxx 
> 
> (sshyserious@gmail.com)


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